A Guard came to the prison shoe shop where Jimmy Valentine was stitching a boot. The guard took Jimmy to the warden’s office. There, the warden passed Jimmy a pardon, which had been signed by the governor that morning. Jimmy took the document and looked bored. He had spent nearly ten months of his four-year sentence in jail, but he had expected to stay only about three months. Men like Jimmy Valentine had so many powerful friends outside of prison. It wasn’t even worth giving them a haircut and uniform, because they left prison so quickly.

 “Valentine,” said the warden, “you’ll be released in the morning. I know you have a good character. Stop breaking into safes, and get a real job. I know you can do it.”

 “Me?” said Jimmy. “I’ve never broken into a safe in my life.”

 “Oh, no,” laughed the warden, “of course not. Why were you convicted for that theft in Springfield, then? Did you take the blame for one of your powerful friends? Or was it because the jury didn’t like your face? I hear those excuses from criminals every day.”

 “Warden,” said Jimmy, innocently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been to Springfield in my life.”

 “Take him back to his cell, officer,” smiled the warden, “and give him his street clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning and bring him to my office. I advise you to think about my advice, Valentine – become an honest man.”

 At a quarter past seven the next morning Jimmy stood in the warden’s office. He wore the cheap suit and stiff, squeaky shoes that the state give to all freed prisoners.

 The clerk handed Jimmy a train ticket and a five-dollar bill. The law expected Jimmy to use them to begin a new life as an honest man. The warden gave him a cigar, and shook his hand. It was written in the record book that prisoner #9762 was pardoned by the Governor, and Mr.James Valentine walked free into the sunshine.

 Jimmy ignored the singing birds, the waving trees and the colorful flowers. He went straight to a restaurant. There he celebrated his freedom by eating a barbecued chicken, and drinking a bottle of white wine. Afterward, he smoked a cigar which was a lot better than the one the warden had give him. When he had finished smoking he walked slowly to the train station. On the way there he tossed a quarter into the hat of a blind man sitting on the ground.

 Then Jimmy got on the train. Three hours later he got off at a small town. He walked into Mike Dolan’s cafe, and shook hands with Mike, who was alone behind the bar.

 “Sorry we couldn’t get you out of prison sooner, Jimmy,” said Mike. “But there were some lawyers in Springfield we had to deal with. Then the governor almost changed his mind. How’re you doing?”

 “I’m fine,” said Jimmy. “Have you got my key?”

 Mike gave him his key and Jimmy went upstairs. He unlocked the door of a room and stepped inside. Everything was the same as when he left it. Detective Ben Price’s collar button still lay on the floor from the fight when Jimmy was arrested.

 Jimmy slid back a secret panel in the wall and pulled out a dusty suitcase. He opened the suitcase and gazed happily at the finest set of burglar’s tools ever made. The set was made of special steel and had all the most modern designs. It included drills, punches, clamps, and augers. Jimmy was particularly proud of the tools he had invented himself. He had spent more than nine hundred dollars to have them made at a secret workshop.

 In half an hour Jimmy went downstairs to the cafe. He was now dressed in expensive clothes. He carried his dusted and cleaned suitcase in his hand.

 “Do you have any safes to break into?” asked Mike, with a friendly smile.

 “Me?” asked Jimmy, in a puzzled tone. “I don’t understand. I’m a representative for the New York Short Biscuit and Cracker Company.”

 This joke made Mike laugh so much that he wanted to buy Jimmy a drink. Jimmy had a soft drink. He never drank alcohol.

 A week after the release of prisoner #9762, also known as James Valentine, there was a robbery. A safe was broken into in Richmond, Indiana. The criminal did not leave any clues. Eight hundred dollars were stolen. Two weeks after that a new, burglar-proof safe in Logansport was opened like a birthday present. Fifteen hundred dollars in cash was taken, but the gold and silver was left untouched. The police became concerned. The an old-fashioned bank-safe in Jefferson City gave up five thousand dollars. The losses were now so high that Ben Price took over the case. He found some obvious similarities between the burglaries.

 “This is Jimmy Valentine’s work,” said Ben Price. “He’s back in business. Look at that combination knob. It was taken out as easily as pulling out a radish in wet weather. He’s got the only clamps that can do it. And look how expertly those tumblers were punched out! Jimmy only ever drills one hole. Yes, I want Mr. Valentine back in prison. This time his stay will be a long one.”

 Ben Price knew Jimmy’s habits well. Ben had learned them while working on the Springfield case. Jimmy never cracked safes that were close to each other, he always left the scene quickly, he always worked alone, and he liked spending the money he stole. The detective had caught Jimmy once, and Ben knew he could catch Jimmy again. When people with safes heard that Ben Price was working on the case they felt better.

 One afternoon Jimmy Valentine and his suitcase got off the mail wagon at Elmore, a little town five miles from the railway line in the Arkansas countryside. Jimmy looked like an athletic young senior just home from college as he walked toward the hotel.

 A young woman walked towards Jimmy. As the passed each other he looked into her eyes and forgot who he was. She looked down and blushed. Young men with Jimmy’s style and looks were rare in Elmore.

 Jimmy turned and watched her walk into the Elmore Bank. He approached a boy sitting on the steps of the bank, and began to ask him questions about the townn. He gave the boy a dime every few minutes to keep him interested. After a while the young lady came out, pretending not to notice the young man with the suitcase, and went on her way.

 “Is that Miss Polly Simpson?” asked Jimmy.

 “No,” said the boy. “That’s Annabel Adams. Her dad owns this bank. Why did you come to Elmore? Is that a gold watch chain? I’m going to get a dog for my birthday. Have you got any more dimes?”

 Jimmy went to the Planters’ Hotel and registered under the name of Ralph D.Spencer. He told the clerk that he had come to Elmore to start a business. He asked about the shoe business in town, and if the town needed a shoe store.

 The clerk was impressed by Jimmy’s clothes and manner. The clerk was thought to be a fashionable young man by the young people in Elmore, but seeing Jimmy made him realize he had a lot to learn about fashion. As he tried to figure out the way Jimmy had tied his tie, he politely answered the man’s questions.

 “I think there’d be a lot of demand for a shoe store,” said the clerk. “There’s no shoe store in town. People buy shoes at the general store. And business is good here. I hope you decide to stay here Mr.Spencer. Elmore is a very pleasant town to live in, and the people are very friendly.”

 Jimmy told the boy he would stay in town for a few days to check out the situation. “I’ll carry my bag up to my room myself,” said Jimmy. “It’s quite heavy.”

 Jimmy changed his name to Ralph Spencer and stayed in Elmore. He opend a successful shoe store, and made many friends. And he achieved his heart’s desire – he met Miss Annabel Adams and began to fall in love with her.

 After a year had passed, Mr.Spencer had won the respect of the community. His shoe store was very successful, and he and Annabel were engaged to be married in two weeks. Mr.Adams was a typical, conservative country banker, and he approved of Mr.Spencer. Annabel was very proud of Ralph and very affectionate toward him. He felt very comfortable in her family.

 One day, Jimmy sat down in his room and wrote this letter, which he mailed to an old friend in St.Louis:

 Dear Old Friend:

 I want to meet you at Sullivan’s place, in Little Rock, next Wednesday night at nine o’clock. I want you to help me with some things. Also, I want to give you my tools. I know you’ll be happy – they’re worth about one thousand dollars.

 Billy, I’ve quit the old business. I’ve been living straight and honest for a year. I’ve got a nice store, and I’m going to marry the most beautiful girl in the world two weeks from now. This is the best way to live, Billy. I will never touch another man’s money again. After I get married I’m going to sell my store and travel west. I’ve never stolen anything there and no one will recognize me.

 Billy, I’m in love with an angel. She believes in me, and I will never do another dishonest thing in my life. You must meet me at Sullivan’s place. I’ll bring the tools with me.

 Your old friends,          
 Jimmy           

 On the Monday night after Jimmy wrote his letter, Ben Price arrived in Elmore. He hung around town quietly until he found out what he wanted to know. From the restaurant across the street from Spencer’s shoe store he got a good look at Ralph D.Spencer.

 “Are you going to marry the banker’s daughter, Jimmy?” said Ben to himself, softly. “Well, that’s interesting!”

 The next morning Jimmy had breakfast at the Adams’ house. He was going to Little Rock that day to order his wedding suit and buy something nice for Annabel. It would be his first trip out of Elmore since he arrived. It had been more than a year since his last “job” and he thought it would be safe to leave the small town.

 After breakfast at the Adams’ house, he went downtown with Mr.Adams, Annabel, Annabel’s married sister and her two girls, aged five and nine. They stopped at the hotel where Jimmy still stayed, and he ran inside and got his suitcase. The they went to the bank, where Dolph Gibson waited with a horse and carriage to take Jimmy to the train station.

 The whole family went into the banking room. Jimmy also went in because Mr.Adams trusted his future son-in-law. The clerks were happy to see the good-looking and friendly young man who was going to marry Miss Annabel. Jimmy put his suitcase on the floor. For fun, Annabel picked up the suitcase and said “Do I look like a Doctor? Wow! Ralph, it’s very heavy. It feels like it’s full of gold bricks.”

 “There are a lot of brass shoehorns in there,” said Jimmy, “that I’m going to return. I want to save money on the courier charges by taking them myself. I’m becoming very sensible with money.”

 The Elmore bank had just installed a new safe and vault. Mr.Adams was very proud of it, and wanted to show everyone. The vault was small but it was strong. Three solid steel bolts fastened the door. It also had a time lock. Mr.Adams proudly explained how it worked to Mr.Spencer, who showed a polite and not very intelligent interest. The two children, May and Agatha, were delighted by the shining metal and the funny clock and dials.

 While everyone was admiring the safe, Ben Price walked into the bank. He told the clerk that he was waiting for a friend, then casually leaned on a counter and looked into the banking room.

 Suddenly there was screaming. Somehow, May, The nine-year old girl, had shut Agatha in the vault. She had been playing and copied the way Mr.Adams had turned the handle and the combination dial.

 The old banker pulled the handle for a moment. “The door can’t be opened,” he groaned. “It’s a new safe. I haven’t set the clock and the combination yet.”

 Agatha’s mother screamed again, hysterically.

 “Quiet!” said Mr.Adams, and he raised a trembling hand. “Please be quiet for a moment. Agatha!” he called, as loudly as he could, “can you hear me?” In the following silence they could hear the faint sound of the child screaming in terror.

 “My precious darling,” wailed the mother. “She will die of fright in the dark! Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can’t you men do something?”

 “The nearest man who can open this door is in Little Rock,” said Mr.Adams, in a shaky voice. “My God! Spencer, what shall we do? The child won’t survive for long in there. There isn’t enough air, and she’ll probably die of fright.”

 Agatha’s mother desperately beat the door of the vault with her hands. Someone wildly suggested dynamite. Annabel turned to Jimmy. Her large eye were full of fear, but not despair. She believed that the man she loved could do anything.

 “Can’t you do something, Ralph,” she said. “Please try.”

 With a strange smile he said, “Annabel, give me that rose you’re wearing.”

 Annabel was confused, but she unpinned the rose from her dress and gave it to him. Jimmy put the rose in his shirt pocket, then took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He was no longer Ralph Spencer. He had become Jimmy Valentine.

 “Get away from the door, all of you,” he ordered.

 He put his suitcase on the table and opened it. From that moment Jimmy seemed to be in a trance. He quickly took out the strange, shiny tools, and whistled softly as he worked. The others watched him in amazement.

 In a minute Jimmy’s favorite drill was biting into the steel door. In ten minutes he broke his own burglary record. He threw back the bolts and opened the door.

 Agatha was still conscious. She fell into her mother’s arms.

 Jimmy Valentine put on his jacket and walked towards the front door. He seemed to hear faraway voices crying “Ralph” but he didn’t hesitate. A big man was standing in a doorway.

 “Hello, Ben,” said Jimmy. “You found me at last. Well, let’s go. There’s no reason to stay here.”

 Then Ben Price did something unexpected.

 “I think you’re mistaken, Mr.Spencer,” he said. “I don’t think I know you.”

 And Ben Price turned and walked away down the street.

 Imagine you are walking down Broadway after dinner. You have ten minutes to smoke your cigar while deciding whether to see a tragedy or a comedy. Suddenly a hand is laid on your arm. You turn to look into the thrilling eyes of a beautiful woman wearing diamonds and a fur coat. She quickly puts an extremely hot donut in your hand, pulls out a tiny pair of scissors and cuts off the seconds button of your overcoat. The she yells one word, “Parallelogram!” and runs away down a side street.

 That would be pure adventure. Would you accept it and run after her? Not you. Your face would turn red with embarrassment. You would drop the donut and continue down Broadway, feeling for your missing button. This is what you would do, unless you are one of the lucky few who still have the spirit of adventure.

 True adventurers have always been rare. The ones we read about have been mostly businessmen. They have gone looking for things they wanted – golden fleeces, holy grails, lady loves, treasure, crowns and fame. But the true adventurer goes out without any aim or goal. just to see what happens.

 Half-adventurers – brave and impressive people – have been many. They have changed history. But each one of them had a prize to win, a goal to achieve – so they were no true adventurers.

 In the big city there are twin spirits called Romance and Adventure. They are always out looking for worthy people. As we walk the streets Romance and Adventure secretly watch us, and they challenge us in many different ways. Without knowing why, we might look up suddenly and see a face in a window – a face that we seem to have known forever. In a sleepy street we hear a cry of agony and fear coming from a dark and empty house. A cabdriver drops us at the wrong door, which is opened with a smile. A piece of paper with writing on it falls down to our feet from a high window. We exchange glances of instant hate, affection, and fear with passing strangers in a crowd. A sudden shower of rain – and our umbrella may be protecting a beautiful woman. At every corner fingers beckon and eyes plead, but all the joyful, mysterious and dangerous clues of adventure pass by us. We grow stiff from routine. Some day we come to the end of a very dull life, and we will then realize that our adventure was a boring one – a marriage or two, an expensive house, and a lifelong battle with a vacuum cleaner.

 Rudolph Steiner was a true adventurer. Most evenings he went out in search of the unexpected. To him the most interesting things in life seemed to be around the next corner. He sometimes ended up in strange situations. He had spent two nights in a police station, and he had been robbed several times. But he didn’t care, he kept looking for adventure.

 One evening Rudolph was walking down a street in the old part of the city. There were two streams of people. Some were going home, the others were going out.

 Rudolph moved easily and watched things closely. He worked as a salesman in a piano store. Well, that was what he did in the daylight. At night he was a young adventurer.

 He heard a sudden noise, and saw a pair of false teeth in a glass case. The teeth were opening and closing very quickly. He saw that there was an electric sign above the teeth advertising a dentist. A giant negro, strangely dressed in a red coat, yellow trousers and military cap handed out cards to the passing crowd.

 Rudolph had often seen dentist’s cards given out like this. He usually didn’t take one. But the African very skilfully slipped one card into his hand.

 When he had travelled a few meters down the street  he glanced at the card. One side of the card was blank. On the other was three words written in ink: “The Green Door.” And then Rudolph saw, three steps in front of him, a man throw away the card the negro had given him as he passed. Rudolph picked it up. It was printed with the dentist’s name ad address, and the usual stuff about “fillings” and “braces” and “painless operations.”

 The adventurous piano salesman stopped at the street corner. Then he crossed the street, walked back down a block, recrossed the street and joined the stream of people again. He pretended not to notice the negro as he carelessly took a card passed to him. Ten steps later he looked at it. It was the same handwriting that was on the first card. It said, “The Green Door.” Three or four cards were dropped onto the ground by people walking near him. Rudolph picked them up. They were all dental advertisements.

 The spirit of acventure had beckoned to Rudolf Steiner twice. He slowly walked back to the place where the negro stood by the case of rattling teeth. This time he was not offered a card. He saw that the African only offered the cards to some people. He did not offer Rudolph another card. In fact, he seemed to give Rudolph a look of cold disapproval.

 The look hurt the young adventurer. It felf like a silent accusation that he was not good enough. So he stood back from the people hurrying past, and looked at the building where he thought his adventure must wait.

 It was five stories high. A small restaurant was in the basement. The first floor, now closed, was a hat shop. The second floor, by the electric sigh, was the dentist’s. Above this were many signs – of furtunetellers, dressmakers, musicians, and doctors. Still higher there were flats.

 Rudolf walked quickly into the building and walked up three flights of carpeted steps. Then he stopped. The hallway was a little dark. He saw a green door. For a moment he hesitated, then he walked straight to the green door and knocked on it.

 The moment he spent waiting for the door to open was pure adventrue. What might be waiting for him behind that green door! Danger, death, love or ridiculre?

 He heard a soft sound, and the door was slowly opened. A girl of about eighteen or nineteen stood there white-faced and weak. She swayed, then fainted. Rudolph caught her and laid her on an old couch inside. He closed the door and looked around the room. It was neat, but she clearly had little money.

 The girl lay still. He began to fan her with his hat. That was successful because he accidentally hit her nose, and she opened her eyes. And then the young man saw that her face was the one he had always been looking for The honest gray eyes, the little nose turned cutley up, and the rich brown hair. It seemed the perfect reward for all his wonderful adventures. But her face was very thin and pale.

 The girl looked at him calmly, and then smiled.

 “I fainted, didn’t I?” she asked weakly. “Well, I’m not surprised. I haven’t eaten anything for three days.”

 “Heavens!” cried Rudolph, jumping up. “Wait till I come back.”

 He ran out the green door and down the stairs. In twenty minutes he was back again. He knocked on the door with his toe because both his arms were full of bags of food. He laid the food on the table – bread and butter, cold meat, cakes, pies, pickles, oysters, a roasted chicken, and a bottle of milk.

 “It’s ridiculous,” said Rudolph, “to go without eating. Dinner is ready.” He helped her to a chair at the table. “And now, if you’ll allow me to be your guest, we’ll have supper.”

 Her eyes shone eagerly and she began to eat. She ate like a cute, starving animal. She seemed to think that it was natural that Rudolph was there with all his food. Gradually, the brightness returned to her eyes, and the color to her face. She began to tell him her little story. It was a very common story in the big city. She had worked in a shop for low wages, became sick and lost her job, then lost her hope. Then came the knock of the adventurer upon the green door.

 “You have suffered so much,” exclaimed Rudolph.

 “It was terrible,” said the girl, sadly.

 “Do you have any friends or relatives in the city?”

 “No, not one.”

 “I am all alone in the world, too,” said Rudolph.

 “I am glad of that,” said the girl quickly. And that pleased Rudolph.

 Suddenly her eyelids dropped and she sighed deeply.

 “I’m very sleey,” she said, “and I feel so good.”

 Rudolph rose and took his hat.

 “Then I’ll say good-night,” he said. “A long night’s sleep will be good for you.”

 He held out his hand and she took it, and said, “good night.” But her eyes silently asked a direct and hopeful question.

 “Oh, I’m coming back tomorrow to see how you are.”

 Then she asked, “How did you know to knock at my door?”

 He looked at her for a moment, remembering the cards. She must have written on them, because she was desperate for help. He decided he would never tell her the truth, so that she would not be embarrassed.

 “One of our piano tuners lives in this building,” he said. “I knocked at your door by mistake.”

 The last thing he saw in the room before the green door closed was her smile.

 At the top of the stairs he stopped and looked around. He walked to the end of the hallway and back. He went up to the floor above and came dack down. Every door in the building was painted green.

 He went outside. The African was still there. Rudolph walked up to him and showd him the two cards in his hand.

 “Will you tell me why you gave me these cards and what they mean?” he asked.

 The African gave a huge smile. His teeth were like a dental advertisement.

 “There it is, boss,” he said, pointing down the street. “But I think you are too late for the first act.”

 Rudolph saw a little theater. The electric sign advertised its new play, “The Green Door.”

 “I’ve been told it’s an excellent play, sir,” said the African. “The producer gave me a dollar to give out a few of his cards along with the dentist’s. May I offer you one of the dentist’s cards, sir?”

 Rudolph went to a bar for a glass of beer and a cigar. When he came out, he stopped in front of a lamppost and said to it:

 “All the same, I believe it was Fate that led me to her.”

 This conclusion proves that Rudolph Steiner was one of the true followers of Romance and Adventure.
 

 Soapy moved uneasily on his park bench. When wild geese honk high at night as they fly overhead, and when women without fur coats become kind to their husbands, and when Soapy moves uneasily on his park bench, you know that winter is coming.

 A dead leaf fell in Soapy’s lap. That was winter’s business card. Winter is kind to the citizens of the park – he gives plenty of warning that he is coming.

 Soapy realized he had to do something about the cold weather. And so he moved uneasily on his park bench.

 He did not have high ambitions. There were no thoughts of Mediterranean cruises, or warm Sourthern skies. He wanted three months in Blackwell prison on the Island. Three months of a warm bed, regular food, and good company semmed perfect.

 For years the prison had been his winter home. Just as rish New Yorkers bought their tickets to Palm Beach and Hawaii each winter, so Soapy made his simple plan to go to the Island. And now the time had come. On the night before, three fat Sunday newspapers had not kept him warm oh his bench. So the Island was the most important thing in Soapy’s mind. He could have gone to the Salvation Army or some other charity, but he preferred prison. The chaities made you take baths. And they asked too many questions at meal times. Prison was better, it was more private.

 Having decided to go to the island, Soapy thought about the best way to get there. It was to eat at an expensive restaurant, then declare he had no money. He would be handed quietly to the police, then a nice judge would send him to prison.

 Soapy left his bench and walked over to Broadway. He stopped before a glittering restaurant. It promised to have the best wine, food, and silk tablecloths. Now he just needed to get past the waiters to a table.

 Soapy’s trousers and shoes were bad. But he was confident about his appearance from the waist upwards. He had shaved, and his coat was clean. He even had a tie, which had been given to him by a missionary. So, if he could sit at a table he would look fine. The part of him the waiters could see would not be suspicious. Then success would be his. Soapy decided he’d order roasted duck, a bottle of champagne, then cheese and a cigar. One dollar for the cigar would be enough. He didn’t want to upset the restaurant’s manager. The meal would leave him full and happy for the trip to his winter home.

 But as Soapy stepped into the restaurant the head waiter saw his torn trousers and ancient shoes. Two waiters quickly turned him around and led him back outside.

 He needed to think of another way to get to the Island. On the corner of Sixth avenue he picked up a stone and threw it through a shop window. A policeman came running around the corner. Soapy stood still, with his hands in his pockets, and smiled.

 “Where’s the man that did that?” asked the officer.

 “Don’t you think it was me?” asked Soapy, in a friendly voice.

 The policeman didn’t think Soapy had broken the window. Any man who breaks a window would not talk with policemen. He would run away. Then the policeman saw a man half way down the block running to catch a cab. He drew his gun and ran after the man. Soapy was disgusted. He’d failed twice now.

 Across the street was another restaurant. It was a cheap place, for hungry people with little money. Soapy’s shoes and trousers were not a problem. He sat down and ate steak, potatoes, donuts and pie. And then he told the waiter he had no money.

 “So please call a cop,” said Soapy, “and quickly.”

 “There’ll be no cop to protect you,” said the waiter, who had eyes as red as cherries. “Hey, Bulldog!”

 The two waiters threw Soapy a long way. He landed in the street on his head. It took a long time for him to get up and brush the dust off his clothes. A policeman standing nearby laughed. Getting arrested was like an impossible dream. The Island seemed very far away.

 Soapy walked slowly for five blocks before he had the courage to try again. He saw a golden opportunity. A pretty young woman was looking in a shop window. Ten meters from her stood a large and grumpy policeman.

 All he had to do was say something rude to the woman. Then he would be sent straight to his winter hotel.

 “Hey baby, do you want to play some games at my house?”

 The policeman was still looking. Soapy imagined the warmth of his cell. But the young woman smiled and grabbed his arm.

 “I’d love to,” she said. “If you buy me a beer first.”

 The young woman joyfully put her arm through his as they walked past the policeman. Soapy was filled with sorrow. He was destined to be free.

 At the next corner he ran away from her. He ran until he came to a romantic part of town. The street was filled with happy couples. The women wore fur, and the men wore greatcoats. A sudden fear hit Soapy. What if some magic spell had made it impossible for him to be arrested? He began to feel panic growing inside him. He saw another policeman, and began to yell nonsense as loud as he could. He pretended he was drunk. He danced and yelled.

 The policeman turned his back to him, and said to one passer-by,

 “He’s one of the Yale University students celebrating their defeat of the Hartford College. Noisy but harmless. The chief told us to leave them alone.”

 Soapy became quiet. Would he ever be arrested again? In his mind the Island became a kind of paradise. He buttoned up his thin coat against the chilly wind.

 In a cigar store Soapy saw a well-dressed man lighting a cigar. The man had left his silk umbrella by the door. Soapy stepped inside, picked up the umbrella, and walked off slowly. The man followed him out.

 “My umbrella,” he said.

 “Oh, is it?” said Soapy. “Well, why don’t you call a policeman? There’s one over there.”

 The man slowed down. Soapy also slowed down. He had a horrible feeling that he’d be unlucky again. The policeman looked at them both curiously.

 “Yes, well, mistakes happen,” said the man. “I – if it’s your umbrella – I’m sorry. I picked it up this morning in a restaurant. If it’s yours, why – I hope you’ll…”

 “Of course it’s mine!” said Soapy angrily. And he walked away.

 As soon as he got around the corner he threw the umbrella away. He cursed quietly against the police as he walked. They were treating him like a king who could do no wrong.

 Soapy gave up. He was in a quiet area near the park, so he began to walk towards home – his park bench.

 But on an unusually quiet corner Soapy stopped. Here was a nice old church. Through one stained window a soft light glowed. The sweetest organ music came out of it. It held him. He leaned against an iron fence and listened.

 The moon was above, bright and calm. There were no people or vehicles. A bird sang sleepily in a tree. It was like a country churchyard. And the anthem the organist played glued Soapy to the iron fence. For he knew it well, from the day when his life was different. From the days when his life held thing like mothers and roses and ambitions and friends and clean thoughts and shirts. He felt a sudden and wonderful change in his soul. He realized, with horror, that he had fallen into a dark hole. His life was filled with wasted days, dead hopes, and worthless desires.

 In a moment his heart changed. He had a powerful desire to battle his desperate fate. He would pull himself out of the gutter. Make a man of himself again. He would conquer the evil that had possessed him. There was enough time – he was still quite young. The sad but sweet organ notes had caused a revolution in him. Tomorrow he would go onto the busy downtown district and find work. A man there had once offered him a places as a driver. He would find that man tomorrow and ask for the job. He would be somebody in the world. He would…

 Soapy felt a hand laid on his arm. He looked up into the face of a policeman.

 “What are you doing here?” asked the officer.

 “Nothing,” said Soapy.

 “Come with me,” said the policeman. “I don’t want you to burgle that church.”

 “Three months on the Island,” said the judge in the police court the next morning.

 John walked slowly towards his flat. Slowly, because there are no surprises for a man who has been married for two years and lives in a flat. There was no “perhaps” in his life. As he walked John Perkins gloomily imagined the end of his boring day.

 Katy would meet him at the door with a kiss flavored with mint. He would take off his coat and sit on the couch. He would read the evening newspaper. For dinner there would be sausages and salad. After dinner Katy would show him the sewing she had done that day. At half-past seven the fat man  upstairs would thump and bump as he did his exercises. Then at eight the gentleman downstairs would get out his flute. This was the start of the routine at Frogmore flats.

 John Perkins knew these things would happen. And he knew that at a quarter past eight he would get up and put on his hat. And his wife would be upset and say,

 “Now where are you going, John Perkins?”

 “I think I’ll go up to the bar,” he would answer, “and play a couple of game of pool.”

 Lately, this had been John Perkins’s habit. He would return home at ten or eleven. Sometimes Katy would be asleep. Sometimes she would be awake and annoyed. John sometimes felt that his marriage was like prison.

 Tonight John Perkins met a huge change when he reached his door. No Katy was there with her affectionate minty kiss. The three rooms were in a mess. All her things lay scattered around. Shoes in the middle of the floor. Combs, dresses, and make-up mixed together on the bed and chairs. This was not normal. With a sinking heart John saw a comb with a curl of her brown hair stuck in it. Something unusual and awful must have happened.

 Then John saw a note on the table from his wife. He ran to it. It said:

 Dear John,
 I just got an express letter saying mother is very sick. I am going to take the 4:30 train. My brother is going to meet me at the station there. There is cold mutton in the ice box. She was sick last spring. I hope she’s OK. Pay the milkman 50 cents. Don’t forget to write to the gas company. Your best socks are in the top drawer. I will write tomorrow.

 Katy

 John and Katy had never been separated for a night in two years of marriage. He read the note over and over in a confused way. Here was a change in the routine, and it made him bewildered.

 There on the back of a chair hung the red apron with black dots that she wore while cooking the meals. Her clothes had been thrown everywhere in her hurry to leave. A little packet of her peppermints lay on the floor. Next to them was a newspaper with the train time table cut out of it. John Perkins stood in the middle of the room with a strange sadness in his heart.

 He began to tidy up the flat. When he touched her clothes a feeling of something like terror went through him. He had never imagined life without Katy. She was a part of him. She was like the air he breathed – necessary but hardly noticed. Now, without warning, she was gone. She’d disappeared as if she had never existed. Of course Katy would be gone only for a few days, or at most a week or two – but it seemed to him that the hand of death had touched his safe and quiet home.

 John took the cold mutton from the ice-box, made coffee, and had a lonely meal. After that he looked out the front window.

 He did not feel like smoking. Outside, the city roared to him. It invited him to it’s bars and pool halls. The night was his. He could go anywhere as free as any bachelor. He could drink and dance until dawn if he liked, and there would be no angry Katy waiting for him. He could play pool all night. The chains that tied him to Frogmore flats were loosened. Katy was gone.

 John Perkins did not often think about his feelings. But as he sat alone by the window he realized something – Katy was necessary for his happiness. His feelings for her, that were lost in boring routine, had been awakened by her absence. He remembered the proverb: We never value the music until the bird flies away.

 “I’ve been an idiot,” said John Perkins, “the way I’ve been treating Katy. I go out every night to play pool instead of staying home with her. Poor Katy, she has been here all alone with nothing to do. I’ve been terrible! I’m going to make it up to her. I’m going to take her out and we’ll have some fun. I’ll never play pool again.”

 There was an empty chair next to John. Katy’s blue shirt was on it. The shirt still held some of her shape. Halfway up the sleeves were wrinkles, made by her arms as she worked to give him comfort and pleasure. A delicate smell of flowers came from it. John held the silent and cool shirt for a long time. Katy had never been silent and cool. Tears – yes, tears – came into John Perkins’eyes. When she came home, things would be different. He would treat her better. What was life without her?

 The door opend. Katy walked in carrying a small suitcase. John stared at her stupildy.

 “Oh, It’s good to be back,” said Katy. “Mother wasn’t really sick. My brother met me at the station and said she just had a cold. She got better right after they sent me the letter. So I took the next train back. I’d love a cup of coffee.”

 Nobody heard the click and rattle of the cogwheels in their apartment in Forgmore flats. It buzzed its machinery back into the Usual Routine. And everything slipped back to normal.

 John Perkins lookd at the clock. It was 8:15. He picked up his hat and walked to the door.

 “Now where are you going, John Perkins?” asked Katy.

 “I think I’ll go up to the bar,” said John, “and play a couple of games of pool.”