Still his talk kept in my mind. There might be something in it. The old Chinaman had money there; I needed it. I was ambitious to learn. Chloroform seemed to be the only way and I decided to try it. I gave the place a final looking-over. It was a one-story shack between two larger buildings. A storeroom in front with its long counter, and shelves on both sides filled with merchandise, a small room directly back of it where the storekeeper slept on his pallet. I made sure of that by rousing him early one morning to make a purchase. The big rear room accommodated the Chinese laundry hands.

My friend’s wife delivered the chloroform and a clean handkerchief. I rehearsed the whole business in my mind, and, feeling reasonably safe, put it to the touch. An open window let me into the bunk room, where I unfastened the back door, for a getaway.