He appealed to several people, and found that the
less he said the safer he was. He snatched a towel from a basket of
clothes before a door, twisted it around him, and ran down the street to
Mickey's front entrance. With all his remaining breath he sped up flight
after flight of stairs and at last reached the locked door, only to find
that the key was in the pocket of his stolen trousers, and he could not
force his way with his bare hands. He could only get to his clothing by
trying the fire-escapes again. He was almost too sick to see or cling to
the narrow iron steps, but that time he counted carefully, and looked
until he was sure before he entered. He found his clothes, and in the
intense heat dressed himself, but he could not open the door. He sat on
the fire-escape to think.
Presently he espied one of the men who had robbed him watching him from
another escape, and being afraid and beaten sore, he crept into the heat,
and lay on the bed beside the window. After a while a breath of air came
in, and Junior slept the sleep of exhaustion.
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