New Britain herald., 1924-07-24

step from the shadow into the light as easily. as swiftly as l had passed rom the light to the shadow ] thought knew life,
 l thought that a man could change his character as easily as he changed his clothes, Well, was to learn dif' ferently.
 Hut on this spring night built my- self air-castles, 1 had been down to a certain section Of the city and had closed a deal with "fenee." a man who bought from thieves their loot, In a recent memoir of mine have told how l outwitted Armand cochet, the notorious French crDninal known as the White Eagle, ne had stolen from Marcus Anderson. the million- aire. casket containing all the An- derson jewels. I had stolen the casket from cochct.
 had waited few days before at- tempting 10 dispose Of any Of the jewels. Anderson, unaware Of his loss, had sailed for South America on the morning after the theft. But the profits of this latest venture of mine had been so tremendous that l wished to use more than ordinary caution In realizing them. I wanted to dispose of the lot at one trans action. was sick of stealthy traf- licking was gentleman. no yul- gar trader, and would rather accept less for the lot from one man. than make more by peddling.
 So had shown this fence the com plete Anderson collections; and he had offered me three hundred thou sand dollars, perhaps fifth of their real value. But even that amount was too huge a sum for him 10 hand casually across a counter. It would take him a week to raise the money. And in seven more days l would be independent, freed forever from the necessity of crime!
 So l thought. I even congratu- lated myself that I was of such differ ent clay from the ordinary criminal. For your everyday thief is potentially a murderer, and worse. Devoid of imagination, he steals because steal- ing seems easier than working. Trapped, he kills.
 Oh, I was philosopher. as I sat in the window of my living room and looked out upon Central Park, with its freshly green grass, its newly leaved trees, the lovers walking along the shady paths. or drifting In their boats on the little pond.
 I was unique in history. I was a criminal who could rid myself of criminality at will, who could cut my self off forever from the ways of wickedness. l felt more than savage wrath; I felt contempt, as I tossed away from me the evening paper with its glaring headline.
 It was a sickening story beneath the headline. It told of the discovery by the police of evidence indicating the identity of a brute who had shocked the city three days ago by the wanton staying of child.
 The child had been alone in the apartment where she lived with her parents. A burglar had entered, and finding the girl alone, had killed her apparently for the sheer joy of kill ing. The crime had been justified not even by necessity. The child could have been bound and gagged if the man had feared that her outcries would cause his capture. But the little girl, seeing the intruder, had asked him not to take locket which was her mothers gift to her. En- ragged at her request, he had struck her. Her parents had returned later; before she died, she had told them the facts.
 It was one of those shocking crimes that periodically make us won der how far man is removed from the beast. It sent a whole city into mourning, and made detectives out of hundred thousand citizens.
 And now the police had discovered that Swede Thomassen, a notorious jailbird. was the murderer The dragnet was spread, and the authori- ties were confident that the man would be apprehended within a day or so. I fervently hoped so; I would have killed him myself and known no compunction.
 I had read the sordid story Of swede Thomassen's career as the paper gave 1t. And I saw that he had begun as a cheap gangstcr, had graduated into petty theft. had then become a highwayman, and was now red d-handed murderer. 1t was at this stage of my reading that began to congratulate myself because I was so different from Thomassen. This difference made me the great success that l was. For other thieves visual- ized, in their moment of ease, future thefts; l yisualizcd aSlife of right eousness.
 And now, with three hundred thou- sand dollars to be mine next week, my plans became clean-cut, definite, not mere chaotic hopes. It would be simple. l would go to Australia. I would stay there two or three years. Then l would return to America. I would go 10 that city where I had been born and brought up. and where my family was known and respected. l would join my fathers clubs: l would enter into the civic life of the would even-and this was the compelling force behind my plans-marry.
 It was spring; only few days ago I had felt the urge to lead the nor maj life of men of my age and tradi- ton. I wanted to take a pretty girl to dance with her. to squeeze her hand, to kiss her, per- haps to make her love me. to love her, to marry. could possibly do all these things now; but if l were not honest. I was at least honorable. I could ask no girl 10 entangle her self with a man upon whose collar policeman might any day place his heavy hand.
 But in the few days that had