“There ain’t anything to do now.” “Couldn’t you fix it up some way?” “No. I got in wrong.” He talked in the same flat voice. “There ain’t anything to do. After a while I’ll make up my mind to go out.” “I better go back and see George,” Nick said. “So long,” said Ole Andreson. He did not look toward Nick. “Thanks for coming around.” Nick went out. As he shut the door he saw Ole Andreson, with all his clothes on, lying on the bed looking at the wall. “He’s been in his room all day,” the landlady said downstairs. “I guess he don’t feel well. I said to him: ‘Mr. Andreson, you ought to go out and take a walk on a nice fall day like this,’ but he didn’t feel like it.” “He doesn’t want to go out.” “I’m sorry he don’t feel well,” the woman said. “He’s an awfully nice man. He was in the ring, you know.” “I know it.” “You’d never know it except from the way his face is,” the woman said. They stood talking just inside the street door. “He’s just as gentle.” “Well, good-night, Mrs. Hirsch,” Nick said. “I’m not Mrs. Hirsch,” the woman said. “She owns the place. I just look after it for her. I’m Mrs. Bell.” “Well, good-night, Mrs. Bell,” Nick said. “Good-night,” the woman said. Nick walked up the dark street to the corner under the arc light, and then along the car tracks to Henry’s eating house. George was inside, back of the counter. “Did you see Ole?” “Yes,” said Nick. “He’s in his room and he won’t go out.” The cook opened the door from the kitchen when he heard Nick’s voice. “I don’t even listen to it,” he said, and shut the door. “Did you tell him about it?” George asked. “Sure. I told him, but he knows what it’s all about.” “What’s he going to do?” “Nothing.” “They’ll kill him.” “I guess they will.” “He must have got mixed up in something in Chicago.” “I guess so,” said Nick. “It’s a hell of a thing.” “It’s an awful thing,” Nick said. They did not say anything. George reached down for a towel and wiped the counter. “I wonder what he did?” Nick said. “Double-crossed somebody. That’s what they kill them for.” “I’m going to get out of this town,” Nick said. “Yes,” said George. “That’s a good thing to do.” “I can’t stand to think about him waiting in the room and knowing he’s going to get it. It’s too damned awful.” “Well,” said George, “you better not think about it.” THE SCARLET WOMAN BY LOUIS BROMFIELD From _McClure’s_