g black seem white and gray a golden splendor.

Why run away and leave her to face it alone? . . .

He was there a long time. It grew dark. The street, deserted by its
daylight toilers, grew quiet except for the tramping of an occasional
heavy-footed watchman or policeman. David did not stir. He was slowly
draining his bitter cup--and listening to the eloquent imp. Once to
nearly every man comes an hour when he stands on a high mount and is
shown the kingdom of his desire, to be his if he will--at a price.
There David stood that evening. And he fell. He listened and looked
too long. He did not haggle with his tempter over the price but agreed
to pay, if only he might have his beautiful kingdom.

He did not hear stealthy footsteps along the corridor, nor the rustling
of cautiously drawn shades in Jonathan's office.

The visitor, too, supposed that he had the building to himself. But he
worked by the light of a dark-lantern and tiptoed instinctively. Very
carefully, as his former cell-mate had taught him, he made his
preparations, substituting a sixty- for a six-ampere fuse--which would
give him, the old cracksman had said, "juice" enough to cut through the
ribs of a war-ship--and clamping one strand of his extension wire to
the safe door. This done, he unscrewed all the light bulbs from their
sockets lest, when he turned the switch, a sudden glow through the
shades arouse some prowling watchman's curiosity. Then he took up the
other strand of his wire, to which was attached a carbon electrode,
knelt on the floor and--gingerly, for so much juice suggested many
possibilities to a novice--touched the carbon to the safe door.

He drew back hastily, almost unnerved. The old cracksman had not
warned him of that blinding flash or that sputtering, loud enough, so
it seemed, to be heard a block away. But he remembered that Jonathan
often kept money overnight in the safe. He forced himself to make the
contact again.

David heard a shuffling sound from a near-by office. He straightened
stiffly, wondering dully who the newcomer was. The watchman probably,
on a round of inspection. Or perhaps Jonathan, who came to his office
sometimes of nights to work off odds and ends that his lack of system
allowed to pile up on him. Jonathan, his friend, who had been hurt,
whose stricken, accusing, contemptuous face danced before him. David's
heart gave a sharp twinge at that. He hoped it was not Jonathan. He
did not w