Having made up your mind to stick him up, you must now transform yourself from the silent, stealthy prowler into the rough, confident, dominating stickup man. You walk around to the back of the bed and stop to plan your new move. Now you have it all straight in your mind. You will go to the side of his bed where you first started in on him. That puts you between him and the door and leaves him no chance to get out into the hall. You will touch him gently on the shoulder. He will wake up in alarm.

“Eh, what? What is it? Who is it? Turn on the light.”

Then you will say to him in a firm, kindly tone: “Listen to me and don’t get excited.” You will put the cold muzzle of the gun against his neck and now your voice will be cold, hard, threatening. “Do you feel that? That’s a gun. If you move I’ll let it go. You just keep cool and don’t get yourself killed over a few lousy dollars. I want that bankroll of yours; I know it’s here. Tell me where it is and make it easy on yourself⁠—and be quick about it.”

Yes, that’s the way you will handle him. You start on around to the side of his bed. You remember you have been in the room almost two hours and a half. It will soon be daylight. You look at the window. Yes, there it is; a faint line of gray down the edge of the curtain, the dawn. You must hurry. You are by his side now. You take a better grip on the gun, reach out to touch him, and⁠—pandemonium breaks out in the adjoining room.

It’s only an alarm clock going off, but it petrifies you standing up and tears every nerve in your body up by the roots. You don’t bolt out of the room in a panic; you remain perfectly still. Your mind jumps into the other room. Your sleeping gambler kicks out his legs, turns over with a jerky movement, mutters a string of curses, pulls the covers over his head, and settles himself for more sleep.