The Gates of Chance | Page 6

I continue to present a respectable appearance. I shall always do
that, I think. I don't like the idea of the pawn-shop and the dropping
down one degree at a time. If, in the end, it shall be shown clearly that
the line is to be crossed, I shall walk over it quietly and as a man should;
I object to the indecency of being dragged or carried across. What line
do I mean? I don't know that I could tell you clearly. What is in your
own mind? There IS a line.
At half after seven I left the club, and exactly a quarter of an hour later
I stood opposite the doorway of No. 4020 Madison Avenue. A tall man
was descending the steps; I recognized Bingham, a member of my club,
and recalled the torn-up visiting-card that I had found in the library. So
Bingham was one of us.
Now I don't know Bingham, except by sight, and I shouldn't have cared
to stop and question him, anyway. But I caught one glimpse of his face
as he hurried away, and it looked gray under the electrics. Call it the
effect of the arc light, if you like; he was hurrying, certainly, and it
struck me that it was because he was anxious to get away.
Many are the motives that send men into adventurous situations, but
there is at least one among them that is compelling--hunger. I have said
that I had gone to the club for dinner; I did not say that I got it. To be
honest, I had hoped for an invitation--charity, if you insist upon it. But I
had been unfortunate. None of my particular friends had chanced to be

around, and Jeckley's cocktail had been the only hospitality proffered
me. You remember that my pocket had been picked yesterday morning,
and since then--well, I had eaten nothing. I might have signed the
dinner check, you say. Quite true, but I shall probably be as penniless
on the first of the month as I am to-day, and then what? Too much like
helping one's self from a friend's pocket.
So it was just a blind, primeval impulse that urged me on. This Mr.
Indiman had chosen to fish in muddy waters, and his rashness but
matched my necessity. A host must expect to entertain his guests. I
walked up the steps and rang the bell.
Instantly the door opened, and a most respectable looking serving- man
confronted me.
"Mr. Indiman will see you presently," he said, before I had a chance to
get out a word. "This way, sir."
The house was of the modern American basement type, and I was
ushered into a small reception-room on the right of the entrance hall.
"Will you have the Post, sir? Or any of the illustrated papers? Just as
you please, sir; thank you."
The man withdrew, and I sat looking listlessly about me, for the room,
while handsomely furnished, had an appearance entirely commonplace.
Five and ten minutes passed, and I began to grow impatient. I
remembered that Jeckley's appointment had been for eight o'clock, and
for obvious considerations I did not wish that he should find me
waiting here. It was eight o'clock now, and I would abide Mr. Indiman's
lordly pleasure no longer. I rose to go; the electric bell sounded.
I could hear Jeckley's high-pitched voice distinctly; he seemed to be put
out about something; he spoke impatiently, even angrily.
"But this is 4020 Madison Avenue, isn't it? Mr. Indiman--I was asked
to call--Mr. Jeckley, of the Planet."

"Must be some mistake, sir," came the answer. "This is No. 4020, but
there's no Mr. Inkerman--"
"Indiman, not Inkerman--Mr. Esper Indiman. Look at the card."
"Never heard the name, sir."
"What! Well, then, who does live here?"
"Mr. Snell, sir. Mr. Ambrose Johnson Snell. But he's at dinner, and I
couldn't disturb him."
"Humph!" I fancy that Jeckley swore under his breath as he turned to
go. Then the outer door was closed upon him.
It was a relief, of course, to be spared the infliction of Mr. Jeckley's
society, but I could not but admit that the situation was developing
some peculiarities. Eliminating the doubtful personality of Mr.
Ambrose Johnson Snell, who was this Mr. Esper Indiman, whose
identity had been so freely admitted to me and so explicitly denied to
Jeckley? The inference was obvious that Jeckley had failed to pass the
first inspection test, and so had been turned down without further
ceremony. This reflection rather amused me; I forgot about the
incivility to which I was being subjected in the long wait, and began to
be curious about the game itself. What next?
At a quarter after eight, and then again at half after, there were inquiries
at the