Still no sound came from the house. Next door I now heard a window thrown up and voices calling, a light appeared. It seemed an age since the shot was fired, yet it wasn’t three minutes. Smiler was beyond my help. I must be off. I was drenched with the blood that spurted from a wound in his neck. It was on my face and hands. My shirt front was saturated with it. My coat was dripping blood. I thought of our room downtown⁠—no chance to make it in that condition.

Smiler’s watch chain glistened in the moonlight. I tore at his pockets and found his money. I went through them all, took everything, and ran for blocks and blocks through the alley toward the outskirts of the city. The dawn was coming fast. I must hide. I turned out of the alley into a street and walked on wondering what to do, where to go.

A “For Rent” sign on a large, neglected-looking residence halted me. Not a soul was in sight on the street. I dodged into the yard, around to the back, and found the kitchen door unlocked. Inside, I went into what had been the dining room and sat down on the floor exhausted, nervous, and covered with blood.