unsuccessful. Perhaps in this new adventure I should discover the key
with which to unlock the door of fortune.

I possessed a fairly decent suit of clothes, now pressed and cleaned
after the rough trip from the coast, and dressed as carefully as
possible in the dingy room of my boarding house. A glance into the
cracked mirror convinced me, that, however I might have otherwise
suffered from the years of hardship, I had not deteriorated physically.
My face was bronzed by the sun, my muscles like iron, my eyes clear,
every movement of my body evidencing strength, my features lean and
clean cut under a head of closely trimmed hair. Satisfied with the
inspection, confident of myself, I slipped the card in my pocket, and
went out. It was still daylight, but there was a long walk before me.
Chestnut Street was across the river, in the more aristocratic section.
I had hauled lumber there the first day of my work, and recalled its
characteristics--long rows of stone-front houses, with an occasional
residence standing alone, set well back from the street. It was dark
enough when I got there, and began seeking the number. I followed the
block twice in uncertainty, so many of the houses were dark, but
finally located the one I believed must be 108. It was slightly back
from the street, a large stone mansion, surrounded by a low coping of
brick and with no light showing anywhere. I was obliged to mount the
front steps before I could assure myself this was the place. The
street was deserted, except for two men talking under the electric
light at the corner, and the only sound arose from the passing of a
surface car a block away. The silence and loneliness got upon my
nerves, but, without yielding, I followed the narrow cement walk around
the corner of the house. Here it was dark in the shadow of the wall,
yet one window on the first floor exhibited a faint glow at the edge of
a closely drawn curtain. Encouraged slightly by this proof that the