I stood near the door looking around, trying to spot the little man. A gorgeous young thing held a tray in front of my face until I took a tall glass that contained, I discovered, an excellent Tom Collins. Suddenly I saw the little man. He was at the edge of the group surrounding a distinguished appearing man who was talking. I edged over near the crowd and sized things up. It would be a cinch. I crowded against the little man, then jerked as though someone had shoved me. At the same time my free hand snaked in and got his wallet. "Sorry," I murmured. "Someone pushed me." The little man looked up at me and smiled. And I had a strange feeling that he had been expecting it. I could have sworn he even knew I had his wallet, and was laughing at me. There was one obvious answer. He was a cop and he knew me. He'd take his time and get me with the goods. He didn't look like a cop but-- I looked for him and he had disappeared. I tried to locate him, meanwhile sipping my Collins as though I belonged here. Then I did something I always do unconsciously as a matter of habit. I felt in my hip pocket to make sure my own wallet hadn't been stolen by some other pickpocket. It was gone! So that was it! The little man was a pickpocket. I thought I had seen him someplace before! I grinned suddenly, wondering if he had really missed his billfold yet. * * * * * I kept looking for him. Then things happened fast. I saw the little man sliding away from the man who had let me into the house. George Wile. I took a step after the little man. My eyes jerked back to George when he uttered a scream and clutched at his back. He fell forward, his arms and legs jerking. I pulled my eyes away, searching for the little man. A crowd was rushing around George Wile. I heard someone--a woman--scream, "My God! He's dead!" I saw the little man at the front door. He slipped out as I pushed through the crowd toward him. I went as fast as I dared. When I reached the sidewalk I saw him running toward the drugstore. I ran after him, gaining rapidly. He looked over his shoulder and saw me. Then-- He just vanished. Right in front of my eyes. He couldn't have darted off the walk into the bushes. I stopped, not believing my eyes, and started searching the lawns carefully. A couple of minutes later I heard sirens coming toward this part of town. I hid between two houses and watched the police cars pull up in front of Sarah Fish's place. Then I went to the bus line. A few hours later, after a lot of riding around town I climbed up to the sidewalk from the subway. A night extra was being shouted. "Big murdah in Evanston!" And I knew before I read the paper that it would give my name as the murdered man. Premonition. I was beginning to believe in it now.