“I didn’t believe,” she whispered; “it cannot be.  I thought we were forgotten.”

The man slowly raised his hand.  The moonlight struck fair upon it.  She saw that it was calloused, the hand of a man who toiled.  It was extended over her head.  There was no bodily touch, but her head bent low down until she rested it upon her hands upon the floor.  When she looked up, the room was empty.  There was no sound save the breathing of the children and the throb of her own heart which beat wildly in the fearful hollow of her ear.

She heard a sound of strange footsteps outside the door.  There was a crackle as of paper, the soft sound of things laid upon the floor, a gentle rapping on the panels, a light laugh, a rustle of draperies, footsteps moving away.  As in a dream she got to her feet, she knew not how.  She opened the door.

The hall was dimly illuminated.  Her feet struck a little heap of joy-bringing parcels.  She leaned back against the door-jamb, her hand to her heart, trembling.  What could it mean?

A tiny voice broke the silence.  It was the littlest girl turning over in her sleep, murmuring incoherently and then clearly: 

“If you only believe, that’s enough; if you only believe.”

IV

The Workman

“Is not this the carpenter?”

IV

The Workman

In the mean squalid room back of the saloon half a score of men were assembled.  They were all young in years, in other things not youthful.  Some of them lounged against the wall.  Some sat at tables.  All were drinking.  The air was foul with smoke and reeked with the odor of vile liquor.

“We’ve got two jobs on hand to-night,” said the leader of the gang.  “There’s a crib to be cracked an’ a guy to be croaked.  Red, you an’ Gypsie an’ the Gunney will crack the crib.  It’s dead easy.  Only an old man an’ his wife.  The servants are out except one an’ he’s fixed.  I’ll give you the layout presently.  The other job’s harder.  Kid, I’ll put you in charge, an’ as it’s got to be done early to-night I’ll give you the orders now.  He’ll be at The Montmorency at ten o’clock.  Someone will call him out to the street.”

“Who?”

“Never mind who.  You’ll be there in the car.”

“Whose car?”

“Never mind whose.  Why’re you askin’ so many questions?  It’ll take you an’ the four to The Montmorency at ten o’clock.  When he comes out every one of you let go, the whole bunch, understand.  If they don’t find five bullets in him there’ll be trouble to-morrow.”

“What do we get out of it?”

“A hundred apiece fer you an’ a hundred an’ fifty fer me fer engineerin’ the job.  Christmas money!  You get me?”

“Of course.  How’ll we know who we’ve got to shoot?”

“I’ll be there myself on the sidewalk.  I’ll point him out to you.”