Evening star., 1927-11-13
By yMcCready Huston

Having made this decision. he
walked back to the corner of Wood
street and Fourth avenue, where a
small store offered ties and collars
to the thousands of clerks and tellers
employed in the neighboring banks.
The store, of course, was closed and
dark at this hour: but Bedford Pride s
memory was perfect, and there, as he
recalled it, fastened securely to the
outside Of the building, was a tall,
narrow glass case that contained a
display of mems collars.
With a quick glance to the north
and south, he took from his coat
pocket a small black image of a
spaniel, done in cast iron. His hand
had fallen upon it by chance, as he
had stood in the hall with Mrs. Harris
that day, talking about his overdue
bill for room and board. The spaniel
fitted his hand and had the nice bal
ance of weight that suggested good
hammer. Even then he was prepar-
ing for the arrand on which he was
now embarked. SO he had taken it
from the marhle-topped table in the
chilly parlor. His second theft of the
day, A spaniel, done in cast iron, and
sugar.
Bedford Pride struck the bottom of
the glass case a sharp, quick blow
with the iron dog. And almost before
the shattered bits of glass had fallen
to the sidewalk, he had reached in,
seized a collar from the dozens on
display, and was running as fast as
he could east on Fourth avenue toward
his chosen hiding place in the entrance
of the Mammoth Trust Co. AS he
ran he rolled the collar in a scrap of
newspaper that he carried in his
lyo+ fA,. i,,e hot Hl,af nj
lar must be kept clean.
He discovered suddenly that there
was something queer about his run
ming. 1t seemed weighted, not rapid,
and his breathing--there was some
thing the matter with that, TOO. He
had only three-quarters of a block to
go to reach his hiding place, but the
distance seemed endless; endless and
then appealing. for now he could hear
the sound of feet behind him. They
were running rapidly, more rapidly
than his own.
Did he dare turn into the entrance
Of the building, with those remorse-
less feet pounding the sidewalk so
close behind him? He would be cor
nered there, covered with a gun. He
might be beaten. He might he haauled
across town to the Central police sta
communicate with Sara.
The only thing for him TO do, he
decided, was to outrun his pursuer to
Smithfield street and there lose him.
sell in the crowds. Smithfield street
was line of light across his strained
eyes, misty miles away, but he had
to make 1t.
He passed the doorway in which
he had intended to hide, almost plod-
ding, although he was doing his very
best to run. A figure in uniform and
a cap seemed to spring suddenly
from the center of the sidewalk, just
ahead of him.
The way TO Smithfield street was
hopelessly blocked. He was caught.
Blindly. despairingly he swerved into
the entrance of the next building and
frantically, hopelessly. fell heavily
against the glass doors.
They should not have swung open
at that time of the evening. but they
did; and, staggering inside. he ran,
with those weighted feet, into. the
dimly lighted spaces Of the white,
marble lined corridor.
Up the wide staircase he swung,
stumbling and crawling blindly to an
upper corridor, from which there
office doors. He must find the stair
case leading to the floors above.
That would be difficult in the dark
ness, but he simply must do it. He
peered hopefully about; then. stand
ing there, he raised his hands to his
throbbing head. They were empty.
He had dropped the collar.
Now he was sized with terror
that almost choked him. If the coll
lar was gone, the work he so sorely
needed to keep Sara from want was
also gone. He tried to fiatten himself
against the wainscoting, waiting for
the policemen to rush up the stairs
and place him under arrest. He pic
tured them as lurking below, waiting
for him to show himself. Somewhere,
in the depths of that dark building,
brutal clock struck the hour of
Z. Sara must he awake now!
With that realization. the need for
action defeated devouring fear and
Bedford Pride began to move slowly
toward the head of the stairs. Then
he saw something that made his
heart leap. At the foot of the stairs.
visible under the nightlamp, lay the
collar.
The sight Of it brought him to him.
self. Policemen or no, he must have
that collar. John Allen had told him