ned sooner or later.
Better sooner than never."

Skaggs smoked in silence and looked at Joe.

"I 'm goin' to kill her."

"I would n't if I were you. Take old Sadness's advice and thank your
stars that you 're rid of her."

"I 'm goin' to kill her." He paused and looked at them drowsily. Then,
bracing himself up again, he broke out suddenly, "Say, d' ever tell y'
'bout the ol' man? He never stole that money. Know he di' n'."

He threatened to fall asleep now, but the reporter was all alert. He
scented a story.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "did you hear that? Bet the chap stole it
himself and 's letting the old man suffer for it. Great story, ain't it?
Come, come, wake up here. Three more, Jack. What about your father?"

"Father? Who's father. Oh, do' bother me. What?"

"Here, here, tell us about your father and the money. If he did n't
steal it, who did?"

"Who did? Tha' 's it, who did? Ol' man di' n' steal it, know he di' n'."

"Oh, let him alone, Skaggsy, he don't know what he 's saying."

"Yes, he does, a drunken man tells the truth."

"In some cases," said Sadness.

"Oh, let me alone, man. I 've been trying for years to get a big
sensation for my paper, and if this story is one, I 'm a made man."

The drink seemed to revive the young man again, and by bits Skaggs was
able to pick out of him the story of his father's arrest and conviction.
At its close he relapsed into stupidity, murmuring, "She throwed me
down."

"Well," sneered Sadness, "you see drunken men tell the truth, and you
don't seem to get much guilt out of our young friend. You 're
disappointed, are n't you?"

"I confess I am disappointed, but I 've got an idea, just the same."

"Oh, you have? Well, don't handle it carelessly; it might go off." And
Sadness rose. The reporter sat thinking for a time and then followed
him, leaving Joe in a drunken sleep at the table. There he lay for more
than two hours. When he finally awoke, he started up as if some
determination had come to him in his sleep. A part of the helplessness
of his intoxication had gone, but his first act was to call for more
whiskey. This he gulped down, and followed with another and another. For
a while he stood still, brooding silently, his red eyes blinking at the
light. Then he turned abruptly and left the club.

It was very late when he reached Hattie's door, but he opened it with
his latch-key, as he had been used to do. He stopped to help himself to
a glass of brandy,