"I fancy the laugh will be on the other side this trip," the man murmured. "I ought to get considerable from all three of them."
By this time he had come so near to where Jack was sleeping that he could put out his hand and touch the bed. An instant later his fingers were gliding under the pillow. They grasped a leather pocketbook. Had it been light enough a smile of satisfaction could have been seen on the face of the thief in the night.
"Number one," he remarked in a soft whisper.
He moved into the next room, taking care not to stumble over a chair or stool. He easily secured Nat's valuables, and then ventured into John's apartment.
"Ten minutes more and I'm through," the burglar thought.
When he got to John's bedside, he listened for a few seconds. The Indian student could be heard breathing in his slumbers, but at the sound the man hesitated.
"A slight sleeper," was his unspoken comment. "Liable to wake up on the slightest alarm. I've got to be careful."
His trained observance, despite the evil purpose to which it was put, had at once told the intruder that John was a light and nervous slumberer. Nevertheless the thief decided to risk it. He moved his hand, inch by inch, under John's pillow. A shadow would have made no more noise. It took him nearly twice as long as it had to get the pocketbooks from Nat and Jack, but at length he was successful. Holding the three in his hand he made his way to the door whence he had entered.
"I think I'll just take a look at what sort of a haul I made, before I leave here," the man said. "No use carting a lot of useless stuff away."
There was a dim light burning in the hall, nearly opposite Jack's door. Half concealed by the portal the man paused just within the room and looked over the contents of the pocketbooks.