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Page 8
But "Crackerjack" was a man of unusual character. Poverty, remorse,
drink, all the things that go to wreck men by forcing them into evil
courses had laid him low, and because he was a man originally of
education and ability, he had shone as a criminal. The same force of
character which made him super-burglar could change him from criminal to
man if by chance they could be enlisted in the endeavour.
He had involved the wife he had married in his misfortunes. She had been
a good woman, weaker than he, yet she stuck to him. God chose the weak
thing to rejuvenate the strong. In the prison he had enjoyed abundant
leisure for reflection. After he learned of the birth of his daughter he
determined to do differently when he was freed. Many men determine,
especially in the case of an ex-convict, but society usually determines
better--no, not better, but more strongly. Society had different ideas.
It was Brahministic in its religion. Caste? Yes, once a criminal always
a criminal.
"Old girl," said the broken man, "it's no use. I've tried to be decent
for your sake and the kid's, but it can't be done. I can't get honest
work. They've put the mark of Cain on me. They can take the
consequences. The kid's got to have some Christmas; you've got to have
food and drink and clothes and fire. God, how cold it is! I'll go out
and get some."
"Isn't there something else we can pawn?"
"Nothing."
"Isn't there any work?"
"Work?" laughed the man bitterly. "I've tramped the city over seeking
it, and you, too. Now, I'm going to get money--elsewhere."
"Where?"
"Where it's to be had."
"Oh, Jack, think."
"If I thought, I'd kill you and the kid and myself."
"Perhaps that would be better," said the woman simply. "There doesn't
seem to be any place left for us."
"We haven't come to that yet," said the man. "Society owes me a living
and, by God, it's got to pay it to me."
It was an oft-repeated, widely held assertion, whether fallacious or not
each may determine for himself.
"I'm afraid," said the woman.
"You needn't be; nothing can be worse than this hell."
He kissed her fiercely. Albeit she was thin and haggard she was
beautiful to him. Then he bent over his little girl. He had not yet had
sufficient time since his release to get very well acquainted with her.
She had been born while he was in prison, but it had not taken any time
at all for him to learn to love her. He stared at her a moment. He bent
to kiss her and then stopped. He might awaken her. It is always best for
the children of the very poor to sleep. He who sleeps dines, runs the
Spanish proverb. He turned and kissed the little ragged stockings
instead, and then he went out. He was going to play--was it Santa Claus,
indeed?
IV
The strange, illogical, ironical god of chance, or was it Providence
acting through some careless maid, had left an area window unlocked in
the biggest and newest house on the avenue. Any house would have been
easy for "Crackerjack" if he had possessed the open sesame of his kit of
burglar's tools, but he had not had a jimmy in his hand since he was
caught with one and sent to Sing Sing. He had examined house after
house, trusting to luck as he wandered on, and, lo! fortune favoured
him.
The clock in a nearby church struck the hour of two. The areaway was
dark. No one was abroad. He plunged down the steps, opened the window
and disappeared. No man could move more noiselessly than he. In the
still night he knew how the slightest sounds are magnified. He had made
none as he groped his way through the back of the house, arriving at
last in a room which he judged to be the library. Then, after listening
and hearing nothing, he ventured to turn the button of a side light in a
far corner of the room.
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