It had been twenty-four
hours now since I had first enjoyed the honor of Mr. Esper
Indiman's acquaintance; the novelty of having enough to eat--
actually enough--was already beginning to wear off. Man is a
wonderful creature; give him time and he will adjust himself to
anything.
At the corner of Fifth Avenue and Twenty- seventh Street, Indiman
stopped suddenly and picked up a small object. It was a latch-key
of the familiar Yale-lock pattern. I looked at it rather
indifferently.
"Man! man!" said Indiman, with simulated despair. "Surely you are
an incorrigibly prosaic person. A key--does it suggest to you no
possibilities of mystery, of romance?"
"Well, not without a door," I answered, smartly.
"Oh, is that all! To-morrow we will go out and find a door upon
which this little key may be profitably employed. You promise to
enter that door with me?"
"I promise."
III
House in the Middle of the Block
All things come to him who waits," quoted Indiman. "Do you believe
that?"
"It's a comfortable theory," I answered.
"But an untenable one. And Fortune is equally elusive to those who
seek her over-persistently. The truth, as usual, lies between the
extremes."
"Well?"
"The secret is simple enough. He who is ready to receive, receives.
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