The man did not turn, and Barry’s speed increased. If he could only get out of the station it would be all right. As his foot struck the bottom step, his eyes, glancing backward, told him that the man was buying a ticket. He could scarcely see through the back of his head. Perhaps there was a slim chance, after all. Less than a minute later he flung himself out into the icy street, with a gasp of thanksgiving. Hurrying past the long front of the building, it seemed to him that every one must be staring after him. Through his thin coat the wallet bulged horribly. How could any one fail to guess what was in it? Under normal conditions he was not a fellow to act in this fashion, but conditions were far from normal. He was half starved, and half frozen. He had lost his job four months before, under circumstances which made it almost impossible to get another, and he was desperate. On top of this, the extraordinary situation in which he found himself was enough to make any man lose his head. But Lawrence did not quite do that. He was flustered, nervous, almost terrified; but through it all he clung to one idea—to get back to his miserable room he had thought never to see again. There, at least, he would have security for the moment, and a chance to pull himself together. So he sped on, dodging through cross streets and down wide avenues, the wind whistling in his ears unheeded, the cold penetrating anew his flimsy garments. As block after block was set behind him without the expected happening, a shaky sort of confidence began to take possession of him. And when at last he ran up the steps of the dilapidated rooming house on Twenty-fourth Street, he gave a long sigh of relief. "I’m glad I didn’t throw it away, after all," he muttered, feeling for his key with fingers blue with cold. "There’s just a chance it may be good." But in his heart he felt that the chance was slim indeed. *CHAPTER IV.* *THE EMERALD RING.* In the absorption of the greater trouble, Lawrence had quite forgotten one of his lesser worries—his landlady. That argus-eyed female was on the watch, however, and darted up from the basement just in time to catch him in the hall. "I s’pose you’re comin’ to pay me the three weeks’ rent you’re owin’?" she said, with sarcasm. Lawrence winced at her tone. He was not yet hardened to that sort of a thing. "I hope to have it for you this afternoon, Mrs. Kerr," he returned quietly. "You hope, do you?" shrilled the woman caustically. "Well, let me tell you right here, I ain’t livin’ on hopes. If that money ain’t paid down by three o’clock, out you go. I don’t care if it is below zero. I’ve stood your triflin’ long enough, an’ if you can’t pay you can beat it an’ find another lodging place. I hear they’re letting loafers sleep in the churches these nights. That might suit you, bein’ it’s free."