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Down the block there was an old tenement that had been abandoned for some months. Some guys had held impromptu checker tournament there the week before, and Greg had noticed that the door, once boarded over, had been slightly ajar.
"Don't try nothin' 'cause I got a razor here sharp enough to cut a week into nine days"
"Hey! Rag man! We know you in here. What you got up under them rags? You got any money?"
As Greg howled, the light moved away from Lemon Brown, but not before Greg saw him hurl his body down the stairs at the men who had come to take his treasure.
He sat on the floor near Greg and carefully untied the strings that held the rags on his right leg . When he took the rags away, Greg saw a piece of plastic. The old man carefully took off the plastic and unfolded it. He revealed yellowed newspaper clippings and a battered harmonica.
The night has warmed and the rain has stopped, leaving puddles at the curbs. Greg didn't want to even think how late it was. He thought ahead of what his father would say and wondered if he should tell him about Lemon Brown. He thought about it until he reached his stoop, and decided against it. Lemon Brown would be OK, Greg thought, with his memories and his treasure. Greg pushed the button over the over the bell marked Ridley, thought of the lecture he knew his father would give him, and smiled.
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