Is it James Dunne’s bad habit or his bad luck that sent him to prison again? Read the story and decide for yourself.

    James Dunne hung from the window and, after a moment, dropped to the ground. He had made no noise. He looked about him. The house was on the edge of the town and it was not too near the road. It was almost two o’clock and the night was dark. “Nobody will see me at this time of night,” he thought. He ran quickly across the garden. He felt fairly safe now.

    He felt clever, too. He had been a thief once. But that was before he had come to live in the little town of Brampton. Now he was a jeweller. He had had a jeweller’s shop in Brampton for ten years. And nobody in the town knew that he had once been a thief. He had not stolen anything in all this time. Tonight was the first time in ten years. But he was not nervous. He climbed easily over the garden wall. He could even think coolly of the dead man he had left in the house. He had not wanted to kill Richard Strong, but it had been necessary. He had not wanted to steal from Strong either. But he needed money.

    Dunne needed money because someone had found out about him. A man he had once met in prison recognised him. The man demanded money. He knew that Dunne had been a thief. He said that he would tell people in Brampton about this. Dunne was afraid so he gave him the money. Then the man wanted more money. Dunne’s jewellery business was good, but the man demanded so much that Dunne could not pay him. He tried to win some money, but he lost instead. Now he was in real trouble. He had to get money so he became a thief again. (Question: Do you think his stealing understandable and forgivable?)

    Richard Strong had a lot of valuable old things in his house. Dunne knew this because as a jeweller he often bought old gold and melted it down. He had decided to melt Strong’s gold which he knew he could sell easily.

    It was easy to get into the house. In Brampton no one worried about thieves. Dunne knew that the valuable things were in one room, so he climbed up to the open window. In the room Dunne filled his pockets with gold pieces. He soon had more than enough.

    He was about to leave when he heard a sound behind him. He turned quickly. The door had opened and Strong was standing in front of him. He turned quickly. The door had opened and Strong was standing in fornt of him. “Dunne!” It was the only word Strong said. Dunne had been looking at an old knife and he still held it in his hand. He hardly thought before he used it. In a few seconds Strong was dead. Dunne pulled the body into the room and closed the door. Then he turned off the light, drew back the curtains and climbed out through the window.

     He did not blame himself for killing Strong. “I could do nothing else.” he told himself. “He recognised me. If I hadn’t killed him I would have gone to prison.” He remembered the look of surprise on Strong’s face. It even made him smile. “I had to kill him,” he thought. “Besides, he was an old man. He had only a few more years to live.” (Question: Were those good reasons for killing?)

    He felt safe. Nobody had any reason to think that he had been to Strong’s house! “I left nothing there,” he thought. “Nobody saw me going or returning.” The little street was empty and dark when he went into his own house by the side door.

    He lived alone in the house. A woman came in every day to cook and clean for him but she did not live there. His bedroom was at the back of the house, but he drew the heavy curtains across the window before he turned on the light. Then he felt in his pocket and pulled out a glove. A look of surprise came onto his face. He felt in his pocket again. His hand moved among the gold pieces there but he did not take them out. He was afraid to look at them. He was white with fear. The other glove was not there!(Question: What was his feeling at that moment?)

    He remembered finding the gloves in his pocket when he was at Strong’s house. He had put them on a table while he filled his pockets with gold. He was certain that he had picked them both up before he left. But now one of the gloves had gone. And it had his name and address inside!

    He thought of the room where the dead man lay. The thought of returning filled him with fear. He gave a little cry. “I can’t do it,” he said to himself. “I can’t!”

    Then he thought of prison. The rest of his life in prison. This thought made him go out into the street again. The return journey to Strong’s house was like a terrible dream. He thought he saw strange shapes at every corner. Once he nearly screamed at a piece of paper on the ground. For a moment it had looked like a dead body. (Question: Can you describe his state of mind?)

    He reached the house and climbed slowly up to the window. The room was dark as he had left it. But he thought he could see a darker thing on the floor near the door. He needed to turn the light on to find his glove. He had to go towards the body. His feet touched something soft. He almost screamed. Then his nervous fingers turned on the light.

    Richard Strong lay on the floor at his feet. Dunne tried not to look at the body. But something made him look. He put out his hand and touched the knife.

    “Put up your hands! Put up your hands, you — !”

    Dunne looked up with a cry. The door had opened and Strong’s son stood there. He was pointing a gun at him. Slowly, Dunne raised his arms above his head.

    A detective and two policemen took him to the police station. On the way, the detective said to Dunne, “Well, this is a surprise. You know, if Strong’s son hadn’t found you in the room, you would have been safe. We would never have thought of you if he hadn’t found you with the body — and with your pockets full of gold. You just didn’t get away in time.”

    Dunne said nothing. (Question: What would he think when he heard the detective’s words?)

    His house was on the way to the police station. He asked if he could go in and fetch his overcoat. He was cold.

    “Certainly,” said the detective. “But we’ll go with you.”

    He opened the side door and went in. Dunne came next and then the two policemen. Dunne’s foot touched something on the floor.

    He picked it up and at the moment the detective turned on the light. Dunne looked at the thing in his hand.

    It was his glove. (Question: Could you guess how Dunne felt then?)

From Faces and Places, ed., A.G. Eyre, Longman, 1966.

Approximately 1150 words.