Mr. Haddon's hard voice broke in, changeless belief in its tone: "Mr. Aldrich took it."
David looked at Mr. Haddon, looked whitely at Helen. And then the great Thought was conceived, struggled dizzily, painfully, into birth. He stood shivering, awed, before it....
He slowly turned and walked to a window and gazed down into the street, filled with children hurrying home from school. The Thought spoke to him in vivid flashes. He had no relatives, almost no friends. He loved Helen Chambers; but he was nobody and a beggar. He had not done anything—perhaps could never do anything—and even if he did, his work would probably be of little worth. He had wanted his life to be of service; had wanted to sell it, as it were, for the largest good he could perform. Well, here were the people of St. Christopher's toppling over the edge of destruction. Here was his Great Bargain—the chance to sell his life for the highest price.
As to what he had done with the five thousand, which of course he'd be asked—well, an evening of gambling would be a sufficient explanation.
He turned about.
"Well?" said Mr. Haddon.
David avoided Helen's look. He felt himself borne upward to the apex of life.
"Yes ... I took it," he said.