I knew the ways of the house--I was sure the melon would be
brought in over night and put in the pantry ice-box. If there
were only one melon in the ice-box I could be fairly sure it was
the one I wanted. Melons didn't lie around loose in that house--
every one was known, numbered, catalogued. The old man was beset
by the dread that the servants would eat them, and he took a
hundred mean precautions to prevent it. Yes, I felt pretty sure
of my melon . . . and poisoning was much safer than shooting. It
would have been the devil and all to get into the old man's
bedroom without his rousing the house; but I ought to be able to
break into the pantry without much trouble.

"It was a cloudy night, too--everything served me. I dined
quietly, and sat down at my desk. Kate had one of her usual
headaches, and went to bed early. As soon as she was gone I
slipped out. I had got together a sort of disguise--red beard
and queer-looking ulster. I shoved them into a bag, and went
round to the garage. There was no one there but a half-drunken
machinist whom I'd never seen before. That served me, too. They
were always changing machinists, and this new fellow didn't even
bother to ask if the car belonged to me. It was a very easy-
going place. . .

"Well, I jumped in, ran up Broadway, and let the car go as soon
as I was out of Harlem. Dark as it was, I could trust myself to
strike a sharp pace. In the shadow of a wood I stopped a second
and got into the beard and ulster. Then away again--it was just
eleven-thirty when I got to Wrenfield.

"I left the car in a dark lane behind the Lenman place, and