office, closed the door softly behind him, and sank comfortably into
McNabb's desk chair.

A gong sounded, and was repeated, dimly, upon the floors above.
Wentworth could hear the tramp of feet in the aisles as the clerks
poured from the building through a door that gave on to a side street.
In a few minutes the rush was over, and then they came scatteringly,
singly, and by twos and threes. He could hear the opening of the door,
and the click of the lock as it closed behind them. The footsteps
ceased. He drew his watch and waited. Noises from the street reached
him, sounding far off and muffled, but the store was silent as a tomb.
Twelve minutes ticked away. A footstep sounded. Wentworth could trace
it descending the stairs, and walking the length of an aisle. Followed
the sound of the opening door, and the click of the latch. Some
belated department head, he thought. Possibly Hedin, himself--and he
grinned at the thought.

In the silence of the great building Wentworth suddenly realized that
he was nervous. It was all well enough to plan a thing, but the
carrying out of the plan was quite another matter. He took a silent
turn or two the length of the office, his footsteps making no sound
upon the soft carpet. He waited twenty minutes and, hearing no sound,
closed his watch and dabbed at his forehead with the handkerchief which
he drew from his sleeve. Turning the knob, he stepped out upon the
uncarpeted floor. The sound of his footsteps upon the hardwood seemed
to reverberate through the whole building. He walked a few steps on
tiptoe, and then decided that in case anyone should see him, the
tiptoeing would look furtive. So he walked to the foot of the
stairway, his footsteps sounding in his ears like the ring of a hammer
on an anvil. As he ascended the stairs he called out, "Hey, isn't