later, from his coign of vantage behind the
rain barrel, he saw the light flash out from the super's window--and
his heart almost stood still. What was Regan doing in the super's
office--_alone_! Noodles' face grew very white--_Carleton had a safe
there_--he had got Regan at last! It had taken a lot of time, but none
of the heroes ever got the villain until after pages and pages of
trying to get him. He had got Regan at last!

Noodles crept from the shelter of the rain barrel stealthily as a cat,
and, with far more caution than he had ever exercised before, pushed
the outside door open and went up the stairs. There wasn't any hurry;
he would give Regan time to drill through the safe, and perhaps even
let the master mechanic get the money before giving the alarm--Noodles
bitterly bemoaned the fact that he would have to give the alarm at all
and let anybody else in on it, but, owing to the fact that he had been
unable to finance a revolver with which to hold up the master mechanic
red-handed and cover himself with glory at the same time, there
appeared to be nothing else to do.

It was just a step from the head of the stairs to the door of the
super's room across the hall. Noodles negotiated it with infinite
circumspection, and, on his knees as usual, his heart pounding like a
trip hammer, got his eye to the keyhole. He held it there a very long
time, until he couldn't see any more through hot, scalding, impotent
tears; then he edged back across the hall, and sat down on the top
step--_Regan was playing solitaire_.

Hands dug disconsolately in his pockets, playing mechanically with a
bit of cord that was about their sole contents, Noodles sat there--and
his faith in nickel thrillers was shaken to the core. Noodles'
thoughts were too complex for coherency--that is, for coherency in any
but one of his thoughts--he hated Regan worse than ever, for he
couldn't altogether expurgate the nickel thrillers from his mind on
such a short notice, and he could hear Regan gloat and hiss "Foiled!"
in his ear.

Noodles' hands came out of his pocket--with the cord. He wound one end
around the bannisters, and began to see-saw it back and forth aimlessly
in the darkness. There wasn't any good of shadowing Regan any
more--but he wasn't through with Regan. Noodles had a soul above
discouragement. Only what was he to do? If the nickel thrillers had
failed him in his hour of need, he would have to depend on
himself--only what