"Who did? Tha' 's it, who did? Ol' man di' n' steal it, know he di' n'." "Oh, let him alone, Skaggsy, he don't know what he 's saying." "Yes, he does, a drunken man tells the truth." "In some cases," said Sadness. "Oh, let me alone, man. I 've been trying for years to get a big sensation for my paper, and if this story is one, I 'm a made man." The drink seemed to revive the young man again, and by bits Skaggs was able to pick out of him the story of his father's arrest and conviction. At its close he relapsed into stupidity, murmuring, "She throwed me down." "Well," sneered Sadness, "you see drunken men tell the truth, and you don't seem to get much guilt out of our young friend. You 're disappointed, are n't you?" "I confess I am disappointed, but I 've got an idea, just the same." "Oh, you have? Well, don't handle it carelessly; it might go off." And Sadness rose. The reporter sat thinking for a time and then followed him, leaving Joe in a drunken sleep at the table. There he lay for more than two hours. When he finally awoke, he started up as if some determination had come to him in his sleep. A part of the helplessness of his intoxication had gone, but his first act was to call for more whiskey. This he gulped down, and followed with another and another. For a while he stood still, brooding silently, his red eyes blinking at the light. Then he turned abruptly and left the club. It was very late when he reached Hattie's door, but he opened it with his latch-key, as he had been used to do. He stopped to help himself to a glass of brandy, as he had so often done before. Then he went directly to her room. She was a light sleeper, and his step awakened her. "Who is it?" she cried in affright. "It 's me." His voice was steadier now, but grim. "What do you want? Did n't I tell you never to come here again? Get out or I 'll have you taken out." She sprang up in bed, glaring angrily at him. His hands twitched nervously, as if her will were conquering him and he were uneasy, but he held her eye with his own. "You put me out to-night," he said. "Yes, and I 'm going to do it again. You 're drunk." She started to rise, but he took a step towards her and she paused. He looked as she had never seen him look before. His face was ashen and his eyes like fire and blood. She quailed beneath the look. He took another step towards her. "You put me out to-night," he repeated, "like a dog." His step was steady and his tone was clear, menacingly clear. She shrank back from him, back to the wall. Still his hands twitched and his eye held her. Still he crept slowly towards her, his lips working and his hands moving convulsively. "Joe, Joe!" she said hoarsely, "what 's the matter? Oh, don't look at me like that." The gown had fallen away from her breast and showed the convulsive fluttering of her heart.