"Aw!" The deep little drawl was a groan from Glad.

"I got a place in an office at last. I worked hard, and they began to
trust me. I--had a new idea. It was a big one. I needed money to work
it out. I--I remembered what had happened before. I felt like a poor
fellow running a race for his life. I KNEW I could pay back ten times--
a hundred times--what I took."

"You took money?" said Dart.

The thief's head dropped.

"No. I was caught when I was taking it. I wasn't sharp enough. Someone
came in and saw me, and there was a crazy row. I was sent to prison.
There was no more trying after that. It's nearly two years since, and
I've been hanging about the streets and falling lower and lower. I've
run miles panting after cabs with luggage in them and not had strength
to carry in the boxes when they stopped. I've starved and slept out of
doors. But the thing I wanted to work out is in my mind all the time--
like some machine tearing round. It wants to be finished. It never
will be. That's all."

Glad was leaning forward staring at him, her roughened hands with the
smeared cracks on them clasped round her knees.

"Things 'AS to be finished," she said. "They finish theirselves."

"How do you know?" Dart turned on her.

"Dunno 'OW I know--but I do. When things begin they finish. It's like a