Ex-convicts -- Fiction; Love stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Social conditions -- Fiction; Self-sacrifice -- Fiction
He had no distinct thought toward the articles--there was no thought,
not even a vague one, in his mind. His throat and lips were dry, his
eyes were wide and fixed. His dizzy, unpowering emotion had so increased
that he would not have been surprised had he slipped to the floor and
spread out like a boneless sea creature. He was mental and emotional
incoherence.
The intention to steal had brought him here. That intention was over an
hour old, but since it had been neither fulfilled nor countermanded, it
was stored energy; and presently it began to move his will-less members,
as the stored energy of a coiled spring sets an automaton at its
appointed task. He took from the floor the plunder-bag Kate had given
him, and holding the lantern and the edge of the bag's mouth in his left
hand, he swung open the plate-glass door of the cabinet. His eyes
selected a golden bracelet, and his hand moved slowly forward and took
it up.
Then suddenly his fingers unclosed, the bracelet clicked back upon the
glass shelf, and his hand withdrew from the cabinet. The coiled spring
of his intention had snapped. The touch of what was another man's had
readjusted his confused senses. His blurred feelings became definite,
his dumb brain articulate. He saw what he was doing, saw it clearly, as
a bare act, unjustified by the arguments his bitterness had urged upon
him an hour before--saw that he was committing a theft!
A chill swept through him and he sat stiffly upright in his chair and
stared at the bracelet he had dropped. In the mood he had been in an
hour or two hours before David would not have drawn back from theft, any
more than any other normal starving man, could it have been committed
quickly, upon impulse. But the hour that had passed, the deliberation
which was surrounding the theft, had given opportunity to his moral
being to overthrow the impulse and assert itself.
He rose, forgetting even to take the cabinet key. He would leave the
house at once.
But as he passed out of the drawing-room it came to him that he could
not go away without telling Kate of his purpose. Before him he saw a
flight of stairs; she was somewhere above. He stealthily mounted, passed
through a doorway and found himself in a library. He stood a moment with
strained ears, but got no sound of her. He must go through the floor,
and perhaps through the floor above; but before proceeding further he
must get the lay of the house.
He moved noiselessly toward the library table, drawing out the plan Kate
had given him. He set the lantern on the table beside a telephone,
spread out the sheets and was sitting down when cautious footfalls
sounded without. The next instant a blade of light stabbed the room's
darkness.
"Kate?" he whispered.
"Yes."
They came toward each other and each threw his light into the other's
masked face.
"I've got the old lady's twinklers," she said. "Where's your swag?"
"I didn't take it," he whispered. "I've changed my mind. I'm leaving."
"What!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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