All things come to him who waits," quoted Indiman. "Do you believe
that?"

"It's a comfortable theory," I answered.

"But an untenable one. And Fortune is equally elusive to those who
seek her over-persistently. The truth, as usual, lies between the
extremes."

"Well?"

"The secret is simple enough. He who is ready to receive, receives.
Love, fame, the shower of gold--they are in the air, and only
waiting to be precipitated. I stand ready to be amused, and that
same afternoon the Evening Post aims a blow at the Tammany 'Tiger'
over the shoulder of Mr. Edward M. Shepard; I am in the mood
adventurous, and instantly the shadow of a prodigy falls across my
threshold; yea, though I live on upper West End Avenue. Do you
remember this?" and he held out a small Yale latch-key.

"It is the one you picked up at Twenty-seventh Street and Fifth
Avenue last night."

"Precisely. Now a key, you observe, is intended to open something--
in this case a door. What door? As though that mattered! Put on
your rain-coat, my dear Thorp, and let us begin a little journey
into the unknown. Fate will lead us surely, O unbelieving one, if
you will but place your hand unresistingly in hers."