Indiman was smiling, his head thrown back and his eyes aglow.
The fight was on, and he was awaiting it as another man might his
bride. To be remembered at one's best; I know I should wish that
for myself.
A fortnight passed. I had not heard a word from Indiman, and I
dared not intrude upon him without an invitation. I had taken Miss
Allaire to the Margaret Louise Home for Women, but two weeks is the
limit of residence there. What was to be done now? My own slender
funds were exhausted and Alice had not a penny. So we did the
wisest possible thing under the circumstances--or the most foolish,
whichever you care to term it. An hour after we had been married I
went down to Printing House Square and literally forced a city
editor's hand for an assignment to general reportorial work. At
least we should not starve. I informed Indiman by letter of the
event, but received no reply.
On the afternoon of the 21st of March I was in the city room of the
Planet. Mr. Dodge, the city editor, beckoned to me. He spoke
quickly:
"Our representative at Police Headquarters has just telephoned that
a man has been found dead in the Barowsky Brothers' bank building,
and there's some yarn to the effect that he is the fourth to die
alone in that particular office.
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