"Instantly I thought of my mother's watch.
"'Yes, there is. Somebody came along one night when I was asleep and borrowed my vest hanging over that chair by the window, and my trousers, and my mother's watch was in the vest pocket. If you could help me get that back you would do me a real service—one I wouldn't forget.'
"'What kind of a watch?'
"I described it closely, its inscription, the portrait of my mother in the case, and showed him a copy of her photograph—like the one here. Then I gave him as close a description of the man as I could.
"When I had described the scar on his face he looked at me in surprise. When I added that he had a slight limp, he said, quickly:
"'Short man—with close-cropped hair—and a swipe across his chin. Lost a toe, and stumbles when he walks. I'll see what I can do. He ain't one of our men. He comes from Chicago. He never stays more'n a day or two in any town. Don't none of 'em know him round here. Leave it to me; may take some time—see you in a day or two'—and he went out.
"I didn't see him for a month—not until two nights ago. He didn't ring the bell this time. He came in through the window. I thought the catch was down, but it wasn't. Funny how quick these fellows can see a thing. As soon as he shut the glass sash behind him he drew the curtains close; then he turned down the gas. All this, mind you, before he had opened his mouth. Then he said:
"'Anybody here but you?'
"'No.'
"'Sure?'