ke, segment
by segment, until he reached what he knew to be the hotel's third
floor. Here he rested for a moment or two against the wall, feeling
inwardly grateful that a Mediterranean climate still made possible
Monaco's primitive outside plumbing--to the initiated, he inwardly
remarked, such things had always their unlooked-for advantages. He
also felt both relieved and grateful to see that the two windows
between him and his destination had been left shuttered against the
heat of the afternoon sun. The third window he could see, was not thus
barricaded, although, as he had expected, the sash itself was securely
locked.

Once convinced of this, he dropped down, stealthily, and lay full
length on the balcony flooring, with his ear close against the casement
woodwork, listening. Reasonably satisfied, he rose to his knees, and
took from his vest pocket a small diamond ring. Holding this firmly
between his thumb and forefinger, he described a semi-circle on the
heavy window-glass. He listened again, intently. Then he took a small
cold-chisel from still another pocket, and having cut away the putty at
the base of the semicircle, smote the face of the glass one sharp
little tap.

It cracked neatly, along the line of the circling diamond-scratch, so
that, with the help of a suction cap made from the back of a kid glove,
he was able to draw out the loosened segment of glass. Then he waited
and listened still again. As he thrust in through the little opening a
cautiously exploring hand the casual act seemed to take on the dignity
of a long-considered ritual. It was a ceremonial moment to him, he
felt, for it marked his transit, across some narrow moral divide, from
lonely ascent to lonely decline.

The impression stayed with him only a second. He turned back to his
work, with a reckless little up-thrust of each resolute shoulder. His
searching fingers found the old-fashioned window lever, of hammered
brass, and on this he pressed down and back, quietly. A moment later
the sash swung slowly out, and he was inside the room, closing the
shutters and then the window after him.

He stood there, in the dark quietness, for what must have been a full
minute. Then he took from his pocket a box of wax matches. He had
purchased them for the purpose, from the frugal old woman who month by
month and season by season carried on her quiet trade at the foot of
the Casino steps, catching, as it were, the tiny drippings from