 Part 2. Chapter 11 of The Adventures of Jimmy Dale This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Adventures of Jimmy Dale by Frank L. Packard, reading by Lars Rolander. Part 2. The Woman in the Case Chapter 11. The Magpie A minute passed, another. The automatic at Jimmy Dale's hip, the muscle just peeping over the tabletop, held a steady bead on the window. Came the footsteps again, and then suddenly, a serious low, quick tapings upon the window pane. The toxins hand slipped away from his arm. Jimmy Dale's set face relaxed as he read the underground morse, and he replaced his revolver slowly in his pocket. The Magpie, said Jimmy Dale in an undertone. What's he want? I don't know, she answered in a whisper. He never came here before. There's a back way out, Jimmy, if you... No, he said quickly. We've enimous enough without making one of the Magpie. He knows someone is here with you. Our shadows were on the blind. Don't queer yourself. Let him in. I light the lamp. He struck a match as she ran from the room, and, lifting the hot lamp, Jimmy, with the edge of his ragged coat, lighted the lamp. He turned the wick down a little, shading and dimming the room, and then, as he flirted a bead of moisture from his forehead, whimsically stretched out his hand to watch it in the lamp light. That's bad, Jimmy, he muttered gravely to himself, as he noted an almost imperceptible tremor. Got a start, didn't you? Under a bit of strain, eh? Well, grimly, never mind. It looks as though the luck had turned Macoff and Spider-Jack. His hand reached up to his hat, jerked the brim at a rakeish angle over his eyes, and he sprawled himself out on a chair. He heard the toxin's voice at the front door, and a man's voice, low and guarded, answered her. Then the door closed, and their steps approached the room. It was rather curious that a visit from the Magpie. What could the Magpie want? What could there be in common between the Magpie and the Silver Mag? The Magpie, alias Slimy Joe, was counted the clearest safe worker in the United States, bearing only and always one. A smile flickered across the lips of Larry the bat, one whose pre-eminence, the Magpie, much to his own chagrin, admitted himself, the gray seal. He looked up, twisting the stub of a cigarette between his grimy fingers, and fumbling for a match, as the toxin, and behind her, the Magpie, short, slim, and fiery, shrewd-faced, with sharp, quick-lancing little black eyes, entered the room. Hello, Larry, Grin the Magpie. Got your breath back yet? I felt it through the window-pane when yours let go at the lamp. Allow, Slimy, returned him a dail ungraciously, speaking through the corner of his mouth. Forget it. Sure, said the Magpie unconcernly. He stared about him, and finally, drawing a chair up to the table, sat down, motioned the toxin to do the same, and leaned forward, amy-bullying. I didn't mean to throw no scaring to yours, he said in a conciliating tone, but I had a little business with Mag, and I was kind of interested in whether she was entertaining company or not, see? I didn't know use, and Mag was working together. Maybe, observed your medallions ungraciously, says before, maybe there's some more things you don't know. Ah, cough up the grudge, advised the Magpie with a hint of impatience, creeping in his voice. You don't need to be sore all night. I told you, sir, I wasn't trying to hand you one, didn't I? Never mind, Larry, Slimy, put in the toxin petulantly. He's down on his luck, that's all. He ain't had the praise of a pinch of coke for two days. Oh, exclaimed the Magpie grinning again. So that's what giving use to Pip, Larry? Well, then, say, you can take it from me, that maybe you shall be glad I blew around. I was looking for a guy about your size for a little job tonight, and I wasn't thinking of letting young Dutch see in on it. But, see, Muse are here and in with Mag, and that I got to get Mag in, too. Muse are on, if you say the word. What's the lay, inquired Larry the Bat, unbending a little. The Magpie cocked his eye and stuck his tongue in his cheek. Good night, he said tersely. Nothing like that. Are you's on or ain't yours? Well, then, what's in it fair me, persisted Larry the Bat. More than the price of a corkshnie's returned the Magpie pertinently. There's a century note for you, and maybe two or three of them for Mag. Larry the Bat's eyes gleamed avariciously. Oh, quit your kidding, he said graphely. A century note for me? That's what I said. You's heard me rejoin the Magpie shortly. Only if it listens good to you's now. I don't want to squeal in after the divvy. I'm taking the chances. You's has the soft end of it. One century note for you's, and the rest is none of your business. That's putting it straight, ain't it? Well, what you say, and say it quick. Cause if you's ain't coming in, you's can beat it out of here, so I can talk to Mag. There ain't nothing I would take a chance on for a hundred plunks, declared Larry the Bat with sudden ferrancy, and stared anxiously expectant at the Magpie. Sure I'm on, slay me. Sure I am. Cut it loose. Spell the story. Well then, said the Magpie, I warns. You's ain't through yet, interrupted the toxin tartly. I ain't heard you sarsky mean nothing. I ain't on me uppers like Larry, and maybe the price don't cut so much ease. See? Oh, said the Magpie with a smirk. I don't have to ask you's on this lie. This is where you's coming in on it for marbles. Say, this is where we gets to hook into a guy by the name of Henry LaSalle. Get me? Henry LaSalle? Under the table, Jimmy Dale's hand clenched suddenly, but not a muscle of his face moved. Save as were the tip of his tongue. He shifted the butt of the cigarette that was hanging royally from his lower lip to the other corner of his mouth. Sure, she's got you, slay me. He flung out with a grin as the toxin wrinkled up her face menacingly, and began to mumble to herself. He's the guy that handed her one when she was young, and she's been lying for him ever since. Sure I know. Ain't I worked him for her till I wears me shoes out trying to get something on him? Sure she's in on it. Go on, slay me. What's the lay? What do I do for that century? The magpie hitched his chair closer to the table, and as his sharp little ferritise glanced around the room, motioned the two to bring their heads nearer. One of me influential brook of friends, down on Wall Street, put me wise, he said with a wink. That's good enough for use too, as far as that goes. But take it from me. I got it dead straight. He lowered his voice, sigh, he's one of the richest mugs in New York, ain't he? Well, he's been selling stocks and bonds all day, thousands and thousands of dollars worth for cash. All them things is always sold for cash, remarked Larry the Bat furtiously. I'll forget it, said the magpie earnestly. For cash, I said, the coin, the long green, understand. He wasn't showing no checks for what he sold into the bank, except to get them cashed. That's what he's been doing all day, getting the checks cashed, and getting the money in big bills, see? A note of one bunch of 80,000, and us only one. What fair, inquired Larry the Bat. It was the question that was pounding at his brain, as he stared innocently at the magpie. What did it mean? Why was Henry Lassalle turning, and if the magpie was right, feverishly turning every security he could lay his hands on into cash? And then, in a flash, the answer came. They had not found the package. Equally to them as to the toxin sitting there before him, it meant life and death. If the package were found by the toxin instead of themselves, the game was up. They were preparing for eventualities. If they were forced to run at a moment's notice, they, at least, were not going to run empty-handed, far from empty-handed it seemed. It would not be difficult for the estate executor to realize a vast sum in short order on instantly marketable, gilt-edged securities, say half a million dollars, not very bulky, either, in large bills. Five thousand hundred dollar bills would make half a million. It was astonishing how small a handbag, say, might hold a fortune. What, firstly, me, inquired again, wiggling his cigarette butt on his tongue tip. What he do that for? How the hell do you suppose our nose demanded the magpie politely scornful? That's his business. That ain't what's war in me. Now, sure it ain't, admitted Larry the Batting gratingly. But go on, keep moving, slimy. What's he done with the stuff? Done with it? He could the magpie with a short laugh. What do you stink? He been lugging it home to his swell joint up there on the avenue, and cramming his safe full of it. Larry the Batts sucked in his breath. Gee, that's soft, he muttered, and then suddenly, as though with painful inspiration, say, slimy, say, are you sure you ain't been handed a steer? The magpie grinned wickedly. I ain't falling for stairs, he said shortly. This is on the level. Jimmy Day lurched up from his chair, and leaning over the lamp chimney, drew weasely on his cigarette to get a light. His eyes saw the toxin's face. To all intents and purposes, she was entirely absorbed in the magpie. He sat down again to gape with a well-stimulated dog-like admiration at slimy Joe. Was this, too, a plant? Why had the magpie come to them with the story of Henry LaSalle? And then, the next instant, as the magpie spoke, his suspicions were allayed. Let's get down to cases, the magpie invited crisply. I didn't blow in here just for luck. This Henry LaSalle is the guy who's worked for once, ain't he, mag? That's the spiel, ain't it? He sent you up for pinching the tacks out of his carpets? I'll never pinch nothing, snald silver mag truculently. He's a dirty liar, I'll never did. Cut it out, cut it out, can that? Complain the magpie patiently. The point is, you's worked in his house, didn't you? Sure I did, snapped the tuxen, sullendly aggressive. But, well, then that's what I want. That's what I come for, mag. A plan of the house, say. D. Medaille could feel the tuxen's eyes upon him, questioning, searching, seeking a cue. A plan of the house? Yes or no? And a decision on the instant. Sure, said Larry, but brightly. That's what I was thinking yous were after all the time. Say, yous are all right, slimy. Yous are the kind to work with. Go on, mag, draw the dope for slimy. That's better than trying to put one over on the swell guy. This'll make him squeal fair fair. The magpie produced a penciled and a piece of paper from his pocket, and laid them on the table in front of the tuxen. There yous are, he announced. Help yourself and go to it, mag. The tuxen evidently not quite certain of her part, wet the pencil doubtfully on the end of her tongue. I ain't never drawed plans, she said anxiously. Maybe, she glanced at D. Medaille. Maybe I don't know how to do it right. Ah, go ahead, naughty Larry the bat. Yous can do it right, mag. Yous don't have to make no oil pinting. All the magpie wants is the doors and windows, slimy. Sure, agreed the magpie, encouragingly. That's all, mag. Just mark the rooms out on the first floor and the basement. Yous can explain what yous are doing as yous go along. I'll get yous. The tuxen cackled maliciously in a scent. And then, while the magpie got up from his chair and stood peering over her shoulder, she began to draw laboriously, her brows knitted, the pencil hooked awkwardly between cramped up forefinger and thumb. Larry the bat slouched forward over the table. His chin in his hands appeared to watch the proceedings with mild interest. But his eyes, like a hawk's, were following every line on the paper, transferring them to his brain, photographing every detail of the plan in his mind. And as he watched, there seemed something that was near to ace of all that was ironical with the magpie standing there. His sharp little black eyes drinking in greedily the tuxen's work, in the tuxen herself aiding and abetting in the projected theft of her own money. How far would he let the magpie go? He did not know. Perhaps who would could tell, all the way, between now and then, there lay that package. If it were at Makov's, at Spidey Jack's, if it could find it, get it, the magpie as a temporary custodian of the state's money would at least preclude its loss by flight if the crime club took alarm too quickly. Larry the bat's eyes, under half closed lids, rested musingly on the magpie's face. The magpie would not get very far away with it. On the other hand, if he failed at Spidey Jack's, if, after all, he was wrong, and the package had never been there, or if they had forestalled him, turned the trick upon him, already secured it, then Larry the bat slips, working on a cigarette, formed in a twisted smile, then, well then, that was quite another matter. Perhaps he and the magpie might not agree so far. A half million dollars was perhaps not much out of 11 millions, but it was a salvage not to be despised. Why did he say half a million? Well, why not? If the magpie knew of a single transaction of 80,000, and there had been many transactions during the day, a half million was little likely to prove an exaggeration, and the less likely in view of the fact that, if those in the crime club were preparing for an emergency, they would not stint themselves in the disposal of securities. The magpie was keeping up a running fire of questions, as the toxin toiled on with her pencil. Where did the hole lead to? How many windows in the library? Did she remember the kind of fastenings? Did the servant sleep in the basement or above? And finally, twice over, as she finished the clumsy drawing and pushed it toward him. He demanded minute details of the position of the safe. Ow, that's all right, slimy! Larry the bat cut in airily. If yous forget anything when yous get in there, yous can ask me. I got it kinched. The magpie folded the paper and stowed it carefully away in his pocket. Ask yous, eh? he granted sarcastically. And where do yous think yous will be about that time? In there with yous, of course? replied Larry the bat promptly. That's what you said? Yes, yous will not announce the magpie with cold finality. Do yous think I want to queer myself? A hot one used beyond the inside job. Yous will be outside, with your people skinned for the bulls, yous and mag here too. See? Get out stright. While I'm on the job yous to place the game. Now yous listen to me both of yous. Don't start nothing, unless yous has to. If it's a kinch, I've got to make a getaway. Yous to start a drunk fight. Get me? Yous no delay. Throw the talk loud and I'll fade. That's all. We'll crack the crib early. It'll be quiet enough up there by one o'clock. One o'clock, Larry the bat shook his head. What time was it now? It was about nine, when he had first met the tuxan. Then the sanctuary. Then the long walk as he had followed her. Say, a quarter of ten for that. And he had certainly been here with her, not less than an hour and a half. It must be after eleven then. One o'clock. And before that must come Makov and Spiderjack. The night, that half an hour ago had seemed so sterile, was crowding a programme of events upon him now. Too fast. Nothing doing, he said thoughtfully. Yous are in wrong, dare slimy. One o'clock don't go. Take it from me. I watched that guy too many nights for Mak. Daint often he leaves the club before one o'clock. And he ain't never in bed before two. All right, agreed the magpie after a moment's reflection. Yous ought to know. Make it three o'clock. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, lighted it, and leaning back in his chair, stuck his feet up on the table. If yous don't mind, Mag, I'll stick around a while. He decided calmly. Maybe, de less, I'm seen to know it de better. And I guess there won't be nobody looking for me here. Larry the bat carved suddenly, and rose up a little heavily from his chair. He had not counted on that. If the magpie was settling down for a prolonged stay, it devolved upon him, Jimmy Dale, to get away. And at once, and without exciting the magpie's suspicions, he carved again, looked nervously from the toxin to the magpie, stammered, swallowed hard, and carved once more. Well, what's been yours, inquired the magpie ironically. Nothing, said Larry the bat, and hesitated. Nothing only, he hesitated again, and then the words in a rush. Say, Slemy, couldn't yous come across with a piece of that century now? What fair demanded the magpie a little aggressively. Larry the bat cleared his throat with a desperate effort. Yous knows, he admitted sheepishly. Just screamy, the prize of one, Slemy, just one. Coke exploded the magpie, and gets soaked to the eyes, not by a damned sight. No, honest of God, no, Slemy, just one. Pleaded Larry the bat. Nicks, said the magpie shortly. Larry the bat thrust out a hand before the magpie's eyes that shook tremulously. I've got to have it, he declared with sudden fierceness. I've got to, see? Look at me, I ain't going to be no good to not. If I don't, I'll tell yous, I've got to. I ain't going to row yous down, Slemy. Honest, I ain't. Just one, and it'll set me up if I don't get none. I'll be on the rocks before morning. That's straight, Slemy. Ask mag, she knows. Oh, let him go, get it, broke in the toxin wearily. That's the best thing yous can do, Slemy. Dear, all like, when they get's in his class. Yous cook, I ain't sniff, escapes me dead peep, snorted the magpie in disgust. He dug down into his pocket, reduced a bill, and flung it across the table to Larry the Bat. Well, there yous are. But yous can take it from me, Larry. That if yous get waft, he swore threateningly, I'll crack every bone in your face. Get me? Slemy, said Larry the Bat, fearonly, grabbing at the bill with a hungry hand. Yous can count on me. I'll be up there on the job before yous are. Three o'clock, eh? Well, so long, Slemy. He slouched eagerly to the door. So long, Mag. He paused on the threshold for a single, quick flung, significant glance. Say, yous on the oven, oh, Mag. I'll be up there before yous are. So long. Oh, so long, said the toxin, contemptuously. And an instant later, Jimmy Dale, closed the outer door behind him. End of Part 2, Chapter 11, The Magpie. From The Adventures of Jimmy Dale by Frank L. Packard. Read by Lars Rolander. Part 2, Chapter 12, Of The Adventures of Jimmy Dale. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Adventures of Jimmy Dale by Frank L. Packard. Reading by Lars Rolander. Part 2, The Woman in the Case. Chapter 12, John Johansson. 428. Nearly midnight already. It was even later than he had thought. Larry the Bat pressed his face against the shop's windowpane on the bowery for a glance at a clock that had caught his eyes on the wall within. Nearly midnight. He slouched on again hurriedly, still debating in his mind as he had been debating it all the way from the toxins, the question of returning again to the sanctuary. So far, the way both to Spiderjacks and the sanctuary had been in the same direction. But the sanctuary was on the next street. Jimmy Dale reached the corner and hesitated. It was strange how strong was the intuition upon him tonight that made him go on and make all speed to Spiderjacks while equally strong was the cold, stubborn logic that made him go first to the sanctuary. There were things that he needed there that would probably be absolutely essential to him before the night was out. Things without which he might be so badly handicapped as to invite failure from the start. And yet, it was already midnight. Ostensibly, both Makov and Spiderjacks closed their places at eleven. But that might mean anything depending upon their own respective inclinations, or on what of their own peculiar brand of deviltry might be afoot. If they were still about, still in evidence, he was still too early. Midnight, though it was, though, on the other hand, if the coast was clear, he could ill-afford to lose a moment of the time between now and the hour that the magpie had planned for the robbery of Henry LaSalle. For it would not be an easy matter, even once inside Spiderjacks to find that package, since it was Spider's open boast that things committed to his care were where the police, or anyone else, might as well whistle and suck their thumbs as try to find them. And then, with sudden decision, taking his hesitation as it were by the throat, D. Medeil hurried on again to the sanctuary. At most it could delay him but another fifteen minutes, and by past twelve, or a quarter to one, at the latest, he would be at Spiderjacks. Distaining the secrecy of the side door on the alley, for who had a better right, or was better known there than Larry the Bat, a tenant of years, he entered the tenement by the front door, scuffled up the stairs to the first landing, and let himself into his disreputable room. He locked the door behind him, lighted the choked and weasy gast yet, in a single sharp flung glance assured himself that the blinds were tightly shut, and kneeling in the far corner, threw back the oil cloth, and lifted up the low section of the flooring beneath. He reached inside, fumbling under the neatly folded clothes of D. Medeil, and in a moment, ladies led the girdle with his kit of burglar's tools on the floor, beside him, and beside that again, an electric flashlight, a black silk mask, and what he had never expected to use again, when early the night before he had, as he had believed, put it away forever, the thin metal insignia case of the gray seal. Another moment, and with the flooring replaced, the oil cloth rolled back into position, he had stripped off his coat, and was pulling his spotted greasy shirt off over his head. Then, stooping quickly, he picked up the girdle, put it on, put on his shirt again over it, put on his coat, put the metal case, the flashlight, and the mask in his pockets. And once more, the sanctuary was in darkness. It was perhaps 15 minutes later that D. Medeil turned into the upper section of Thompson Street. Here, he slowed his pace, that had been almost a run since he had left the sanctuary, and began to shuffle leisurely along, for the street that a few hours before would have been choked, with its push carts and vendors, its half-naked children playing, where they could find room in the gutters, its sidewalks thronged with shawl'd women, and picturically dressed earring dark visage men, as seen as it were, transported from some foreign land, was still far from deserted. The quiet, if quiet it could be called, was but comparative. There were many yet about. And he had no desire to attract attention by any evidence of undue haste. And besides, Spider-Jax was just ahead, making the corner of the alleyway a few hundred feet farther on, and he had very good reasons for desiring to approach Spider's little novelty store at a pace that would afford him every opportunity for observation. On, he shuffled along the street, until, reaching Spider-Jax, a little too storied, tumble-down brick structure, a muttered exclamation of satisfaction escaped him. The shop was closed and dark, and, though Spider-Jax lived above the store, there were no lights even in the upper windows. Spider-Jax was a small town, in the upper windows. Spider-Jax, presumably, was either out or in bed. So far, then, he could have asked for nothing more. Jimmy Dale edged in close to the building, as he slouched by, so close that his hat-brim seemed to touch the window-pane. It was possible that from a room at the rear of the store there might be a light, with a tell-tale ray perhaps filtering through, a door-crack, but there was nothing, only blackness within. He paused at the corner of the building by the alleyway. Down here, adjoining the high-board fence of Spider-Jax's backyard, Makov made pretence as pawn-brokering in a small and dingy wooden building that was little more pretentious than a shed, and in Makov's place, so far as he could see, there was no light either. Jimmy Dale's fingers were industriously rolling a cigarette, as, under the brim of his slouch-hat, his eyes were noting every detail around him. A yard in against the wall of Spider-Jax, the wall-cutting of the rays of the street-lamp at a sharp angle, it was shadowy and black. And beyond that, farther in, the alleyway was like a pit. It would take less, far less, than the fraction of a second to gain that yard. But someone was approaching behind him, and a little group of people loitered, with annoying persistency, directly across the way on the other side of the street. Jimmy Dale stuck the cigarette between his lips, fumbled in his pockets, and finally produced a box of matches. The group opposite was moving on now. The footsteps he had heard behind him, those of a man, drew nearer, the man passed by, and the box of matches in Jimmy Dale's hand dropped to the ground. He reached to pick them up, and in his stooping posture, without seeming to turn his head, flung a quick glance behind him up the street. No one for that fraction of a second that he needed was near enough to see, and in that fraction of a second, Jimmy Dale disappeared. A dozen yards down the lane, he sprang for the top of the high fence, gripped it, and, light and active as a cat, swung himself up and over, and dropped noiselessly to the ground on the other side. Here he stood motionless for a moment, close against the fence to get his bearings. The rear of Spidey Jack's building loomed up before him, the back windows as unlighted as those in front, luck so far, at least, was with him. He turned and looked about him, and his eyes growing accustomed to the darkness, he could just make out Macko's place, bordering the end of the yard, nor from this new vantage point could he discover any more than before, a single sign of life about the pawnbroker's establishment. Jimmy Dale stole forward across the yard, mounted the three steps of the low stoop at Spidey Jack's back door, and tried the door cautiously. It was locked. From his pocket came the small steel instrument that had stood there at the back in good stead a hundred times before in similar circumstances. He inserted it in the keyhole, worked deftly with it for an instant, and tried the door again. It was still locked. And then Jimmy Dale smiled almost apologetically. Spidey Jack did not use ordinary locks on his back door. The discounted instrument went back into his pocket, and now Jimmy Dale's hand slipped inside his shirt, and from one of the little upright pockets of the leather belt and from still another, and from after that a third came the vicious little blued steel tools. The sensitive fingers travelled slowly up and down the side of the door, and then he was at work in earnest. A minute passed, another. There was a dull, low, grating sound, a snickers of metal jeeling suddenly, and Jimmy Dale was coolly stowing away his tools again inside his shirt. He pushed the door open an inch, listened, then swung it wide, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. A round white beam of light flashed in a quick circle and went out. It was a sort of storeroom, innocent enough and orderly enough in appearance, bare floored with boxes and packing cases piled neatly against the walls. In one corner a staircase led to the story above, and from above, quite audibly, he caught the sound of snoring. Spider Jack was in bed then. Directly facing him was the open door of another room, and Jimmy Dale, moving softly forward, entered it. He had never been inspired by Spider Jack's before, and his first concern was to form an intimate acquaintance ship with his surroundings. Again the flashlight circled, and again went out. No windows, but a Jimmy Dale under his breath, nothing very fancy about the architecture. Three rooms in a row, store in front of this room, through that door, of course, wonder if the door slot, though it's a foregone conclusion the package wouldn't be in there. Not a sound, his dread silent. He crossed to the close door that he had noticed. It was unlocked, and he opened it tentatively a little way. A faint glow of light diffused itself through the opening. Jimmy Dale nodded his head and closed the door again. The street lamp shining through the shop windows accounted for the light. And now the flashlight played with steady inquisitiveness about him. The room in which he stood seemed to combine a sort of office with a lounging room in which Spider Jack no doubt entertained his particular cronies. There was table in the centre, card still upon it, chairs about it. Against the wall farthest away from the shop stood a huge old-fashioned cabinet, and a little farther along, angle-wise, partitioning off the corner as it were, hung for some purpose or other, a Creton curtain. Also against the wall next to the lane, bringing a commissar to rating smile to Jimmy Dale's lips as his eyes fell upon it, was a clumsy, lumbering, antique safe. Jimmy Dale's eyes returned to the curtain. What was it doing there? What was it for? Instinctively he stepped over to examine it. A single glance, however, as he lifted to the side surfaced. It was nothing but a makeshift cloth closet. He turned from it, switched off the flashlight, and stood staring meditatively into the darkness. In a strange house, with a knowledge to begin with that what he sought was carefully hidden, it was no scenicure to find that package. He had never for a moment imagined that it would be. But one thing, however, there was no uncertainty in his mind. He would get the package, by search if possible, by other means if search failed. It was now close to one o'clock. If by two o'clock his efforts had been fruitless, Spider Jack would hand over the package at the revolver point. It was quite simple. Meanwhile, Jimmy Dale shrugged his shoulders and, going over to safe, knelt down in front of it. Meanwhile, as well begin here as anywhere else. The trained fingers closed on the handle, and on the instant, as though in startled amazement, shifted to the dial. They came back to the handle, a wrench then a low, amused chuckle, and the door swung open. The great unwieldy thing was only a monumental bluff. It not only had not been locked, but it could not be locked. The mechanism was out of order. The balls could not be moved by so much as a hearth breath. Still chuckling, Jimmy Dale shocked the flashlight stray into the interior of the safe, and the chuckle died on his lips. And into his face came a look of strange bewilderment. Inside everything was in chaos, books, papers, a mishalony of articles, as though they had been ruthlessly pulled out on the floor, then gathered up in an armful and crammed back inside again. For an instant he did not move, and then a queer, hard, mirthless smile drew down the corners of his mouth. With a sort of bitter, expectant nod of his head, he turned the light upon the door of the safe. Yes, there were the scratches that the tools had left, and as though in sardonic jest, the holes where the steel bit had bored were plagued with putty and rubbed over with some black substance that was still wet and came off, smearing his finger as he touched it. It could not have been done long ago then. How long? A half hour? An hour? Not more than that. Mechanically he closed the door of the safe, rose to his feet, and almost heedless of noise now, the flashlight ray dancing before him, he jumped across the old fashioned cabinet and pulled the door open. Here, as within the safe, all inside, plain evidence of thorough effaced research was scattered and tossed about in hopeless confusion. He shut the cabinet door. The flashlight went out, and he stood like a man stunned, the sense of some abysmal disaster upon him. He was too late. The game was up. If it had ever been here, the package was gone now, gone. The crime club had been here before him. The game was up. The game was up. His mind seemed to keep on repeating that. The crime club had beaten him by an hour at most and had been here and had searched. It was strange though that they should have been at such curious pains to cover the tracks by leaving the room in order by such paltry efforts to make the safe appear untouched when the first glance that was at all critical would disclose immediately what had been done. Why should they need to cover their tracks at all? Or if it was necessary, why, above all, in such a pitiful, inadequate way? His mind barked back to the same ghastly refrain. The game was up. No, not yet. There was still a chance. There was still spider-jack. Suppose, in spite of their search, they had failed to find the package. Jimmy Dale's lips set in a thin line as he stared abruptly toward the door. There was still that chance and one thing was grimly certain. Spider-jack would at least show him where the package had been. And then halfway to the door he halted suddenly and stood still, listening. An electric bell was ringing loudly, imperiously somewhere upstairs. Followed almost immediately the sound of someone, spider-jack presumably, moving hurriedly about overhead. And then, a moment later, steps coming down the staircase in the adjoining room. Jimmy Dale drew back, flattening himself against the wall. Spider-jack entered the room, stumbled across, sit in the darkness, fumbled for the door and headed into his little shop, opened it, passed through, fumbled around in there again for matches evidently, then lighted aghast yet in the store, and going to the street door opened it. Jimmy Dale had edged along the wall a little to a position where he had an unobstructed view through the open doorway, connecting the shop and the room in which he stood. Spider-jack in trousers and shirt, hastily donned, no doubt, he had got out of bed or standing in the street doorway and beyond him loomed the forms of several men. Spider-jack stepped aside to allow his visitors to enter and suddenly a cry barely suppressed upon his lips, Jimmy Dale involuntarily strained forward. Three men had entered but his eyes were fixed fascinated upon only one, the first of the three. Was it an hallucination? Was he mad? Dreaming? It was Hilton Travers, the chauffeur, the man whom he could have sworn he had last seen dead, lashed in that chair, in that ghastly death's chamber of the crime club. Rather rough on you, Spider, to pull you out of bed at this hour, the chauffeur was saying apologetically, oh, that's all right, it's you Travers, Spider-jack answered, gruffly amiable, only I was kind of looking for you last night. I know, the chauffeur replied, but I couldn't connect with my friends here. Shake hands with them, Spider, Bob Marvin, Harris Steed, glad to know your gents had Spider-jack with a hand grip at peace. The chauffeur lowered his voice a little. I suppose we are alone here, yes? Well, then you know what I've come for, that package, Marvin and Steed here are the ones that are in on it with me. Get it for me, will you, Spider? Sure, Mr Johansson, Spider-green, sure, come on into the back room and make yourselves comfortable. I'll be maybe five minutes or so. Timmy Dale's brain was swirling. What did it mean? He could not seem to understand. His mind seemed to refuse its functions, traverse the chauffeur alive. He drew in his breath sharply. That curtain in the corner, he must see this out now. They were coming. Quick, noiseless, he stole along the side of the wall, reached the corner and slipped in behind the curtain as Spider-jack striking a match into the room. Spider-jack lighted the gas and the others followed behind him, weighed them towards the chairs around the table. I'll just ask you, gents, not to leave the room, he said meaningly over his shoulder as he stepped toward the rear door. It's kind of a fad of mine to keep some things even from our wife. All right, Spider, I understand. The chauffeur returned readily. Timmy Dale's knife cut a tiny slit in the creton on a level with his eyes. The three men had seated themselves at the table and appeared to be listening intently. Spider-jack's footsteps echoed back as he crossed the rear room, sounded dull and muffled, descending the stoop outside and died away. I told you it wasn't in the house the man who'd been introduced as steed laughed shortly. We wasted the hour we had here. The third man spoke crisply, incisively to the chauffeur. Turn down that gas jet a little. You've got across with it so far, but you can't stand a searchlight clock. And at the words in a flash the meaning of it, all of it, to the last detail that was spelling death, ruin and disaster for her, the toxin for himself as well burst upon Timmy Dale. That voice he would have known it, recognised it among a thousand. It was the masked man of the night before, the leader, the head of the crime club and it was not Traverse there at all. You remember now too well that second room they had showed him in the crime club, its multitude of disguises, though in this case they had the dead man's clothes ready to their hands. The leaders posed that impersonation was but childish play to them and now he understood why they had covered up the traces of their search in only so curiously inadequate a manner. They had failed to find the package and as a last resort had adopted the ruse of impersonating Hilton Traverse, the chauffeur which made it necessary that when they called Spiderjack from his bed as they had just done, that Spiderjack at a causal glance should notice nothing amiss but it would be no more than a causal glance for he should know better than they he would not have to go far for the package to any place that they had disturbed and he, Demedale could understand here and watch them helpless powerless to move. Three of them, a step out into the room was to invite certain death. It would not matter his death if he could gain anything for her for the toxin by it but what could he gain by dying? He clenched his hands until the nails bit into the flesh. Spiderjack re-entered the room carrying what looked like a large bulky manila envelope, heavily sealed in his hand. He tossed it on the table. There you are Traverse, he said. I wonder, suggested the leader presently, if now that we are here Traverse, your friend would mind letting us have this room for a few minutes to ourselves to clean up the business? Sure, agreed Spiderjack cordially. You're welcome to it. I'll wait out here in the store until you say the word. He went out, closing the door after him. The leader picked up the package. We'll take no chances with this he said grimly. It's been too close a call. After we've had a look at it, we'll put it out of harm's way on the spot here while we've got it, before we leave. He ripped the package open and is perhaps a dozen official-looking documents beside a Michelinous number of others. He took up the first of the papers, glanced through it hardly, then tossed it to the saved a chauffeur. Tear it up and tear it up small, he ordered tersely. The next, after examining it as he had the first, he tossed to the other man. Go ahead, Kurtle, work fast. From the look of these Traverse had us called. There's proof enough here of LaSalle's murder to send us all to the chair. He went through the documents and then suddenly joining the others in their work began to rip and tear at the papers himself. A sort of cold horror had settled upon Jimmy Dale and his forehead was clammy wet. The inhuman irony of it that he should stand there and watch impotent to prevent it the destruction of what he would have given his life to secure and then slowly a grim hard merciless smile came upon his lips. He had recognized the leader's voice. Now he would recognize the leader's face at least that was left to him perhaps the master trump of all. It would not be very hard to find the crime club now with that man to lead the way. The scraps of paper tiny shreds mounted into a heap on the table and with the last of the contents of the package destroyed the leader stood up put these pieces in your pockets. We don't want to leave here. He directed quietly and then let's cut out in scarcely a moment the last scrap of paper had vanished the three men walked to the door passed through it and joined spiderjack in the store and Jimmy Dale slipping out from behind the curtain gained the door of the rear room crept through it reached the stoop and then darting like the wind across the yard was over the fence in a second and in another was out of the alleyway and on the street he was in time in plenty of time they had just left spiderjacks and were perhaps 50 yards or so ahead of him he slouched on behind them the cold grim smile on his lips once more it was the crime club now that hell's cradle where the devil's schemes were hatched that was the one thing left to him they would lead him to that and then it would be his turn to strike they turned the first corner and suddenly as the racing engine of an automobile caught us here he broke into a run and dashed around the corner after them in time to see them jump into a car and the car speed off along the street he halted as though he was suddenly dazed started involuntarily to run forward stopped with a hollow laugh at the futility of it and stood still and motionless on the sidewalk and then he swayed a little and his face grew grey failure, defeat, ruin in that moment he knew them all to their bitterest dregs how could he go to her how could he face her and tell her that they were beaten that the last hope was gone that he had failed God he cried aloud and clenched his hands then deep in his consciousness a thought stirred and he swept a shaking hand across his eyes why had it come again that thought did it mean that he must play the last card there was a way there had always been a way the way the crime club took murder it was their own weapon if the man who posed as Henry LaSalle were killed if that man were killed the magpie was to be there three he muttered and started mechanically back along the street end of part 2 chapter 12 from the adventures of Jimmy Dale by Frank L. Packard read by Lars Rulander part 2 chapter 13 of the adventures of Jimmy Dale this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please go to LibriVox.org the adventures of Jimmy Dale by Frank L. Packard reading by Roger Maline part 2 the woman in the case chapter 13 the only way it was a horrible thing and a grew upon him in a blind mechanical way his brain receptive to nothing else Jimmy Dale walked on along the street to kill a man death he had faced himself a hundred times witnessed it a hundred times in its most violent forms the murder done before his eyes had been in straits where to save his own life it had seemed the one last desperate chance and yet his hands were still clean to kill a man in fair fight in struggle when the blood was hot was terrible enough a possibility that was always before him the one thing from which he shrank the one thing that as the grey seal he had always feared but to kill a man deliberately to creep upon his victim with hideous cold blooded premeditation he shivered a little and his hands shook as he drew it nervously across his eyes but there was no other way again and again insidiously grappling with his revulsion with the horror that the impulse to murder inspired came that other thought there was no other way if the man who posed as Henry LaSalle were dead if he were dead if he were dead see now what would happen if that man were dead how clear his brain was on that point the whole plot would tumble like a house of cards about the heads of the crime club the courts would require an auditing of the estate by a trustee of the court's own appointing to continue to administer it until the toxin's 25th birthday or until there was tangible evidence of her death but the toxin, automatically with her pseudo-uncle's death could publicly appear again her death could no longer benefit the crime club since it, the crime club with the supposed uncle dead could not profit through the false Henry LaSalle inheriting as next of kin it was the weak link the vulnerable point in the stupendous scheme of murder and crime with which these hell-fiends had played four and one so far the stake of 11 millions not that they had overlooked or been blind to this they were too clever, too cunning for that it was only that they had planned to accomplish the toxin's death as they had her fathers and uncles and establish the false Henry LaSalle in undisputed possession of the estate and had failed in that up to the present but the material results remained the same so long as the toxin, to save her life was forced to remain in hiding so long as proof that would convict the crime club was not forthcoming so long as that man lived time passed to which Jimmy Dale was oblivious at times he walked slowly scarcely moving at times his pace was a nervous, hurried stride that was almost a run and as he was oblivious to time so was he oblivious to his surroundings to the direction which he took at times his forehead was damp with moisture that was not there from physical exertion at times his face deathly white was full as of the vision of some shuttering abhorrent sight at times his lips were thinned into a straight line and there was a glitter in the dark eyes that was not good to see while his hands at his sides clenched until the skin, tied over the knuckles was an ivory white to kill a man what other way was there the proof that it had taken Hilton Travers years to obtain the proof on which the toxin's life depended was destroyed utterly irreparably it could never be duplicated Hilton Travers was dead murdered murder that thought again it was their own weapon murder would one kill a venomous reptile in whose fangs was death what right had this man to life whose life was forfeit even under the law for murder was she to drag on an intolerable existence among the dregs in the scum of the underworld she in her refinement and her purity to exist among the vile and disilute in daily, hourly peril of her life because the weapons that these inhuman vultures had used to rob her to destroy those she loved to make of her life a hideous joyless thing should not be used against them but to kill a man to steal upon a man with cold intent in the blackness of the night and take his life to be a murderer to know the horror of blood forever upon one's hands to rise cold-sweated in the night fearful of the very shadows around one to live with every detail of that fearsome act sweeping like some dread specter at unexpected moments upon the consciousness he put up his hands before his face as though to blot out the thought from him mind and soul recoiled before it to kill a man he walked on and on until at last conscious of a sense of fatigue he stopped he must have come a long way been walking a long time where was he he looked about him for a moment in a day's way and suddenly with a low cry shrank back as though he had been drawn to it by some ghastly magnet he found himself standing in front of the LaSalle mansion on Fifth Avenue no no, it was not for that he had come to kill a man it was only only to get that money yes, he remembered now that money from the safe before the magpie got it the magpie was to be there at three o'clock and the toxin was to be there too the toxin that package he had failed it had been her one hope and it was gone what could he say to her how could he tell her the miserable truth but he had not come there in the dead of night to kill a man these other things were what had Jimmy it was a quick-breath whisper a hand was on his arm he turned, startled it was the toxin silver mag Jimmy in alarm why are you standing here like this you may be seen seen suppose he were seen he shuddered a little yes, that's so he said hoarsely he glanced numbly up and down the wide, deserted but well lighted avenue it was no place that most aristocratic section of the city for such as silver mag and larry the bat to be seen at that hour of night or rather morning and if anything happened inside that house I didn't think of that he said mechanically come across the street under the stoop of that house there she had his arm and was half dragging him as she spoke the alarm in her voice intensified and then a moment later, safe from observation Jimmy Jimmy, what is the matter what has happened what makes you act so strangely nothing he said I tell me, she insisted wildly and then with a violent effort Jimmy Dale forced his mind back to the immediate present he was only inspiring her with terror and there was the magpie and that money in the safe where is the magpie he asked with quick apprehension am I late is he in there already no she said he hasn't come yet what time is it he demanded anxiously how about half-past two she replied but Jimmy wait, he broke in where is he now you were both together and you were both to be here at three what are you doing here alone at half-past two a strange little exclamation one almost of dismay it seemed escaped her the magpie left my place an hour ago to get his kit I think and I came here at once because that was what you and I understood I was to do, wasn't it Jimmy, you frightened me you were not yourself don't you remember the last word you said as you nodded to me behind the magpie's back that you would be here before us there was no mistaking your meaning if I could get away from him I was to come here and meet you Jimmy Dale passed his hand nervously across his eyes of course he remembered now what a frightful turmoil his brain had been in yes of course he tried to speak nonchalantly I had forgotten for the moment she caught his arm in a quick tight hold shaking him in a terrified way you forget a thing like that Jimmy something terrible has happened can't you see that I'm nearly mad with anxiety what is it what is it that package Jimmy is it the package he did not answer what could he say it meant life, hope, joy everything that the world held for her and it was gone yes it is the package she whispered frantically quick Jimmy tell me it was not there he could not find it it was there he said as though the words were literally forced from him then then what Jimmy the clutch on his arm was like a vice they got it he said it was like a death sentence that he pronounced it is destroyed she did not speak or move save that her hands fell out strength fell away from his arms and dropped to her sides it was dark there under the stoop though not so dark but that he could see her face it was gray gray as death and there was misery and fear and a pitiful helplessness in it and then she swayed a little and he caught her in his arms gone she murmured in a dead colorless way and suddenly laughed out sharply hysterically don't for God's sake don't do that he pleaded wildly she looked at him then for a moment in strange quiet and lifted her hand and stroked his face in a numbed way it would have been better Jimmy wouldn't it she said in the same monotonous voice it would have been better if I had never found out anything they had done the same to me that they did to father Marie Marie it was the first time he had ever spoken her name and it was on his lips now in an agony of tenderness and appeal don't you mustn't speak like that I'm tired she said I I can't fight anymore she did not cry she lay there in his arms quite still like a weary child the minutes passed when Jimmy Dale spoke again it was irrelevantly and his face was very white Marie described the upper floor of that house over there for me she roused herself with a start the upper floor she repeated slowly why why do you ask that have you forgotten in turn he said with a steady smile that money in the safe it's yours we can at least save that out of the wreck you only drew the basement plan and the first floor for the magpie the more I know about the house the better of course in case anything goes wrong now see try and be brave and tell me quickly for I must get through before the magpie comes I have barely half an hour no Jimmy no she slipped out of his arms let it alone I am afraid something I I have a feeling that something will happen it is the only way he said it involuntarily more to himself than to her Jimmy let it alone she said again no he said I am going so tell me quickly every minute that we wait is one that counts against us she hesitated an instant and then speaking rapidly made a verbal sketch of the upper portion of the house for him it's a very large house isn't it he commented innocently to pave the way for the question above all others that he had to ask which is your uncle's I mean that man's room he addressed on the right at the head of the landing she answered only Jimmy don't don't go he drew her close to him again now listen he said quietly when the magpie comes and finds I am not here lead him to think that the money he gave me was too much for me that I am probably in some den doped with drug ability I may after all show up before he goes in there you understand and now about yourself you must do exactly as I say on no account allow yourself to be seen by anyone except the magpie I would tell you to go now only unless it is vitally necessary we cannot afford to arouse the magpie's suspicions we can work in the underworld snarling at our heels but you are not to wait even for him if you detect the slightest disturbance in that house before he comes and equally after he has gone in whether I have come out or not at the first indication of anything unusual you are to get away at once you understand Marie yes she said but Jimmy you know more he smiled at her reassuringly did the magpie say anything about how he intended to get in yes by the side away from the corner of the street she said tremulously you see there is quite a space between the house and the one next door and besides the house next door is closed up there is nobody there the family has gone away for the summer the library window there they have to reach from the ground for a moment longer he held her close to him as though he could not let her go then Benton kissed her passionately and in that moment all the emotions he had known as he had walked blindly from spiderjacks that night surged again upon him and that voice was whispering whispering whispering it is the only way it is the only way and then not daring to trust his voice he released her suddenly and stepped back out from under the stoop and the next instant he was across the deserted avenue another and he had slipped through the iron gates that opened on the street driveway and in yet another he was crouched close up against the front door of the LaSalle mansion it was a large house a very large house one of the few that even the wealth and luxury of that quarter boasted its own grounds and those so restricted as scarcely to deserve the name but it was set far enough back from the street to escape the radius of the street lamps and so guarantee in its shadows security from observation it was not the magpie's way the front door the obvious to the magpie and his ilk was a thing always to be shunned his lips were set in a grim smile as his fingers worked with lightning speed now taking this instrument and now that from the leather pockets in the girdle beneath his shirt the penitentiaries were full of magpie's who shunned the obvious very slowly very cautiously the door opened he listened breathlessly tensely the door closed again behind him he was inside now stillness blackness not a sound a minute went by another and then as he stood there strained listening the silence itself began it seemed to palpitate and pound pound and be full of strange noises it was a horrible thing to kill a man end of part two chapter thirteen recording by Roger Maline part two, chapter fourteen of The Adventures of Jimmy Dale this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Adventures of Jimmy Dale by Frank L. Packard reading by Roger Maline part two, The Woman in the Case chapter fourteen out of the darkness a moment later Jimmy Dale stepped forward through the vestibule he was quite calm now a sort of cold, merciless precision in every movement succeeding the riot of turbulent emotions that had possessed him as he had entered the house the half hour the maximum length of time before the magpie would appear as he had estimated it went out there under the stoop with the toxin had dwindled now to perhaps twenty minutes twenty-five at the outside twenty-five minutes twenty-five minutes was so little that for an instant the temptation was strong upon him to sacrifice rather than any of those precious minutes the magpie instead and then in the darkness as he stole noiselessly across the hall he shook his head it would be a cowardly brutal thing to do what chance would a man with a record like the magpies stand if caught there how easy it would be to shift the murder of the supposed Henry LaSalle to the magpie's shoulders Jimmy Dale's lips closed firmly self-preservation was perhaps the first law but he would save the magpie if he could the magpie should have his chance the man might be a criminal might deserve punishment at the hands of the law his liberty might be a menace to the community but he was not a murderer his life forfeit for a crime he had never committed if he, Jimmy Dale, could only in some way have arranged with the toxin out there to keep the magpie away altogether but it could not be done without arousing the magpie's suspicions and as a corollary to that afterward with the subsequent events would come the deluge the law of the underworld was clear, concise and admitting of no appeal on that point to double cross a pal meant sooner or later a knife thrust, a blackjack or but what difference did it make what form the execution of the sentence took and since then that was out of the question since he could not keep the magpie away without practically risking his own life the magpie at least must have his chance Jimmy Dale was at the library door now that according to the plan the toxin had drawn up for the magpie and as he had remembered her description when she had told him her story earlier in the evening was just at the foot of the staircase how dark it was though the stairs could be only a few feet away he could not see them and how intense the silence was again here where he stood the slightest stir from above must have reached him but there was not a sound his hand felt out for the doorknob found it turned it and pushed the door open he stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him the safe, according to the toxin's plan again was in that sort of alcove at the lower end of the library Jimmy Dale's flashlight played inquisitively about the room there was the window the only one in the room the window through which the magpie proposed to enter there was the archway of the alcove with it no there were no longer any portiers and there was the safe he could see it quite plainly from where he stood at the upper end of the room the flashlight went out for the space of perhaps 30 seconds 30 seconds of absolute silence absolute stillness then the round white ray of the light again but glistening now on the nickel knobs and dial of the safe and Jimmy Dale was on his knees before it a low scarcely breathed exclamation that seemed to mingle anxiety and hesitation escaped him he who knew the make of every safe in the country knew this one for its true worth 25 minutes could he open it in that time let alone with any time to spare it was not like the one in spider jacks it was the kind that the magpie however clever he might be in his own way would be forced to negotiate with soup and with the attendant noise double his chance of discovery and capture and the responsibility for what might have happened upstairs no, the magpie must have his chance and besides the money in the safe apart why should not he, Jimmy Dale have his own chance as well all this would help the motive robbery, the perpetrator there was grim mockery on his lips now as the light went out and the sensitive fingers closed on the knob of the dial the perpetrator, the grey seal it would afford excellent food for the violent editorial diatribes under which the police again would writhe and frenzy stillness again silent only a low, tense breathing only so faint that it could not be heard a foot away a curious scratching as from time to time the super sensitive fingers fell away from the dial to rub upon the carpet to increase even their sensitiveness by setting the nerves to throbbing through the skin surface at the tips and then, Jimmy Dale's head ear pressed close against the safe to catch the tumbler's fall was lifted and the flashlight played again on the dial twenty-eight and a quarter left how fast the time went and how slowly still the black shape crouched there in the darkness against the safe at times in strange ghostly flashes the nickel dial with the ray upon it seemed to leap out and glisten through the surrounding blackness at times the quick intake of breath as from great exertion at times faint musical little clicks as from a board of effort the dial world preparatory to a fresh attempt and then, at last a gasp of relief ah came the sound barely audible as of steel sliding in well-oiled grooves the muffled thud of metal meeting metal as the bolts shot back and the heavy door swung outward Jimmy Dale stretched his cramped limbs and wiped the moisture from his face then set to work again upon the inner door this was an easier matter far easier five minutes perhaps a little more went by and then the inner door was open and the flashlight's ray was flooding the interior of the safe a queer little sound half of astonishment half of disappointment issued from Jimmy Dale's lips there was money here a great deal of money undoubtedly but there was no such sum as he had somehow fantastically imagined from the magpie's evidently over-colored story that there would be there was money ten packages of banknotes neatly piled in the bottom compartment but there was no half million of dollars he picked up one of the packages hurriedly and drew in his breath after all there was a great deal the notes were of $100 denomination and on the bottom were two $1,000 bills calculated roughly if each of the other nine packages contained a like amount the total must exceed a hundred thousand and now Jimmy Dale began to work with feverish haste from the leather girdle inside his shirt came the thin metal insignia case and a gray seal was stuck firmly on the dial knob of the safe this done he tucked away the packages of banknotes some into his pockets and some inside his shirt and then quickly ransacked the interior of the safe flauntingly spilling the contents of drawers and pigeonholes out upon the floor he stood up and leaving the safe door wide open walked back across the room to the window he fastened the catch and opened the window an inch or two the way was open now for the magpie the magpie would have no need to make any noise in forcing an entrance he would be able to see almost at a glance that he had been forestalled by the gray seal and that as far as he was concerned the game was up the magpie had his chance if the magpie did not take the hint and make his escape as noiselessly as he had entered it was his own fault he, Jimmy Dale, had given the magpie his chance Jimmy Dale turned from the window and made his way out of the library to the foot of the stairs leaving the library door open behind him how long had he been was it more or less than the twenty-five minutes he did not know only as yet the magpie and now perhaps it did not make so much difference where was he going now his foot was on the first stair and suddenly he drew it back the cold sweat bursting out on his forehead where was he going now the first room on the right at the head of the landing from his inner consciousness as it were the answer in all the bald naked horror replied flashed upon him the first room on the right that man's room God how the darkness and the stillness began to palpitate again and suddenly seemed to shriek out at him over and over the one single ghastly word murder it had been with him that thought all the time he had been working at the safe but it had been there then like some heavy nameless dread subjugated for the moment by the work he had had to do which had demanded the centered attention of every faculty he possessed but now the moment had come when there was only that before him only that nothing else only that the man upstairs in the first room to the right of the landing why did he hesitate why did he stand there priceless moments before daylight came were passing the man was a murderer a blotch on society and his life already forfeited he was living now only because the law had not found him out the man was a criminal blood stained and his life because he had taken her father's life and had tried to take the toxins own life stood between her and every hope of happiness robbing her even literally in a material sense of everything that the world could hold for her why did he hesitate it was that man's life or hers it was the only way he put his foot upon the bottom step again paused still another instant and then began stealthily to mount the stairs the darkness there had never been it seemed such darkness before the stillness he had never known silence so heavy so full of strange promodatory pulsings a silence that seemed so incongruously full of clamoring whispers in his ears it must be those imagined whispers that were affecting his nerve for now as he gained the landing and slipped as automatic from his pocket his hand was shaking with a queer twitching motion for an instant fighting off his self-composure he stood striving to locate his surroundings through the darkness the staircase was a circular one making the landing nearly at the front of the house and rearward from this the toxin had said a hallway ran down the center with rooms on either side the first room to the right therefore should be just at his hand he reached out unconsciously there was nothing he edged to the right still nothing edged a little farther a sense of bewilderment growing upon him and finally his fingers touched the wall it was very strange the hallway must be much wider than he had understood it to be from what he had said he moved along now straight ahead of him his hand on the wall feeling for the door and with every step his bewilderment increased surely there must be some mistake perhaps he had misunderstood he had come fully twice the distance that one would expect and yet there was no door ah what was that his fingers closed on soft heavy velvet hangings these could hardly be in front of a door and yet what else could it be he drew the hangings warily apart and felt behind them it was a window but it was shuttered in some way evidently for he could not see out Jimmy Dale stood motionless there for fully a minute it seemed absurd preposterous the conviction that was being forced home upon him that there were no rooms on the right hand side of the corridor at all but that was not like the toxin accurate always in the most minute details the room must be still farther along he was tempted to use his flashlight but that as long as he could feel his way was an unnecessary risk a flashlight upstairs where a sleeping room door might be a jar or even wide open where someone wakeful that man himself perhaps might see it more matter than a flashlight in the closed and deserted library below he went on once more still guiding himself by a light finger touch upon the wall passed another portier similar to the first and after that another and finally stopped by bringing up abruptly against the end wall of the house it was certainly very strange there were no rooms on the right hand side of the corridor and here hanging across the end wall was another of those ubiquitous velvet portiers he parted it and a little to his surprise found a window that was not shuttered but that instead was heavily barred by an ornamental grill work he could see out however and found that he was looking directly out from the rear of the house a lamp from the side street through what was undoubtedly the garage and his shadowy outline and he made out below him a short stretch of yard between the garage and the house he remembered that now she had described all that to the magpie there was no driveway between the front and the rear the house being on the corner the entrance to the garage was directly from the side street yes she had described all that exactly as it was but he dropped the portier and faced around carrying his hand in a non-plussed way to his eyes but here upstairs within the house it was not as she had said it was at all what did it mean she could not have blundered so egregiously as that unless he caught his breath suddenly unless she had done so intentionally was that it had she surmised formed a suspicion of what was in his mind of what he meant to do and taken this means of defeating it if so well it was too late for that now there was one way only one way whatever the cost whatever it might mean for him there was only one way out for her his flashlight was in his hand now and the round white ray shot down the corridor seemed suddenly to falter unsteady swept in through an open door that was almost beside him and then as though a nervous hand held it the ray dropped and played shakily in the toe of his boot before it went out a stifled cry rose to his lips something cold like a hand of ice seemed to clutch at his heart those portiers the wide richly carpeted corridor it was the corridor of the night before that room at his side was the room where he had seen Hilton Travers the chauffeur dead lashed in a chair he felt the sweat beads burst out anew upon his forehead it was the crime club end of part 2 chapter 14 reading by Roger Baleem part 2 chapter 15 of The Adventures of Jimmy Dale this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Adventures of Jimmy Dale by Frank L. Packard reading by Lars Rolander part 2 the woman in the case chapter 15 retribution his brain seemed to whirl staggered as by some gigantic castley mockery the crime club here he had thought to creep upon that man and he had run blindly into the very heart and center of this health fiend's nest silently his do there forcing his breath as he listened now motionless as a statue forcing his mind to think he remembered that last night his impression of the place had been that it was more like some great private mansion than anything else well, he had been right it seemed he could have laughed loud, sardonically, hysterically it was not so strange now that there were no rooms on the right hand side of the corridor and what could have suited their purpose better? what, by its very location its unimpeachable character could be a more idle layer for them than this house and how grimly simple it was now the explanation in the five years that the falls Henry LaSalle had been in possession they had cunningly remodeled the upper floor, that was all it was quite clear now that the man never entertained why he had never been caught or found or known to be in communication with his fellow conspirators it was no longer curious that one might watch the door of the house for a month at a stretch and go unrewarded for one's pains as the toxin had done when excess to the house by those who frequented it was so easy through the garage on the side street and from the garage, if their work had their clever contrivances within the house by an underground connection into say, the cellar or basement again, Dimidel checked that nervous unnatural inclination to laugh aloud was there anything any single incident any single detail of all that had transpired that was not explained borne out as it could be explained and borne out in no other way save that the crime club than this very house itself it was the exposition of that favorite theory of his it was so obvious that there in late security he had mocked at the magpie not many moments before on that score and now it was the beam in his own eye it was so obvious now so glaringly obvious that the crime club could have been nowhere else so obvious with every word of the toxin's story pointing it out like a signpost and he had not seen it and then suddenly every muscle grew strained and rigid was there someone in the corridor was it someone moving or was it only a fancy he listened while he strained his eyes through the darkness there was no sound only that abnormal heavy silence that yes he remembered that too now that had clung about him last night like a pole he could see nothing hear nothing but intuitively bringing a cold dismay the greater because it was something unknown intangible he felt as though eyes were upon him that even in the darkness he was being and as he stood there then slowly they crept upon Jimmy Dale the sense of peril and disaster it was not intuition now it was certainty he was trapped it was the part of a fool to imagine that with their devil scanning their cleverness their ingenuity he or anyone else could enter that house unknown to his occupants had he made electric contact when he had opened the front door and rang a signal here perhaps upstairs had he set some system of alarm at work when he had touched that window what did it matter the details that had heralded his entrance he was certain now that his presence in the house was known only why had they left him so long without attack he shook his head with a quick impatient movement that too was obvious he was under observation who was he why had he come was he simply a poultry safe tapper or was he one whom they had a real need to fear and then too there might well be another reason it was far from likely in fact unreasonable to imagine that all the men he had seen here the night before were in the house now not many of them if any would live here for constant daily coming and going even through the garage could not escape notice and of the servants probably a lesser breed or criminal some of them at least no doubt were engaged at that moment in watching his own house outside tribe there was even the possibility that the man posing as Henry LeSalle was for the time being here alone he shook his head again he could hardly hope for that he had no right to hope for anything more now than a struggle with an inevitable fatal ending to himself but one in which at least he could sell his life as dearly as possible one in which perhaps he could go to war with the man he had come to find if he could do that well after all the price was not too great there were no tremors of the muscles now it was Jimmy Dale the grey seal every faculty alert tends keyed up to its highest efficiency the brain cool, keen and active fighting for his life but there was the window in the library that he had opened if they would let him get that far that was as good a chance as any if he made an effort to find say a way to the flatter bow and chance some means of escape there it would in no wise obviate an attack upon him and he would only be under the added disadvantage of unfamiliar surroundings filling up with his left hand his automatic thrown a little forward in his right he began to retrace his way along the blank wall of the corridor pausing between each step to listen moving silently his tread on the heavy carpet as noiseless as though it were some shadow creeping there stillness utter absolute always that stillness always that sense of danger around him the tense baited expectancy of momentary attack a revolver flash through the darkness a sudden rush upon him but still there was nothing only the darkness only the silence he gained the head of the stairs and began to descend and now the strain began to tell upon his nerves again again he was possessed of the mad impulse to cry out to do anything that would force the issue that would end the horrible unbearable suspense why did that revolver shot not come why had they not yet rushed upon him why were they playing with him as a cat with a mouse or was it all wild fanciful imagination what was that again he could have sworn this time that he had heard a sound but he could neither define its character nor locate the direction from which it had come he was at the foot of the stairs now and guiding himself by the wall moving now barely an inch at a time he reached the library door that he had left open and stole in over the threshold halfway down the room and diagonally across from where he stood was the window in a moment now he could gain that but they would never let him go so easily and so it must come now in that next moment their attack where were they where were they now the table he must remember not to bump into the table a pause between each step he was crossing the room halfway to the window had it been all fancy was he too and then Jimmy Dale stood motionless someone had closed the library door softly stillness again a sort of deadly calm upon him Jimmy Dale felt out behind his back for the big library table that he had been circuiting if the window were wide open it might be done but to jump for it then silhouetted there during the pause necessary to fling the window up was little less than suicidal he edged back noiselessly until his fingers touched the table then lowering himself to sneeze he backed in underneath it and lay flat upon the floor it was not much protection but it had one advantage if they switched on the lights it would show an empty room for the first instant and that instant meant the first shot where were they now by the library door how many of them were there well it was their move two could play a cat and mouse until until daylight that wasn't very far off now and when that came he might still have the first shot but after that he turned his head quickly toward the window there was a faint scratching noise as a fingernail scraping the sill then the window very slowly almost silently was pushed steadily upward and a dark form loomed up outside and then crawling through a man dropped as though his feet were padded like a cat on the floor inside the room the magpie a flashlight's ray shot out and with a twisted smile propped now on his left elbow to give free play to his revolver arm Jimmy Dale followed the white spot eagerly with his eyes but it did not circle around instead the light was turned almost instantly toward the lower end of the room and a second later was holding steadily on the open door of the safe and the litter of papers on the floor came a savage growl of amazed fury from the magpie then he stepped down the room and as he reached the safe a torrent of unbridled blasphemy and then in a sort of a staggered gasp as he leaned suddenly forward examining the knob of the dial the grey seal a moment the magpie stood there and then cursing again in abandon turned and started back for the window his flashlight dancing before him and stopped a second dancing before him and stopped a snarl of fury on his lips the flashlight was playing full on Jimmy Dale under the table Larry the bat the grey seal Pyke God choked the magpie you, you the magpie's flashlight as he shifted it from his right hand to his left and wrenched out his revolver had fallen upon two men crouched close against the wall by the library door and he screamed out in an access of fury the double cross a plant, the balls you damn snitch Larry screamed out the magpie and fired the bullet tore into the carpet beside Jimmy Dale came answering shots from the men by the door and then the magpie emptying his automatic at the two men as he ran the flame tongues cutting vicious lanes of fire through the darkness dashed for the window there was a cry the crash of a heavy body pitching to the floor and the magpie had flung himself out through the window and in the momentary ensuing silence within the room came the sound of his footsteps running on the gravel below there was a low moon the movement as of someone staggering and lurching around and then the lights went on but for an instant Jimmy Dale did not move he was staring at the form of a man still and motionless on the floor in front of him the man who had posed as Henry LaSalle dead the man was dead his mind ran riot for a moment where were the others were there only these two only these two in the house only these two and one was dead and then Jimmy Dale was on his feet one was dead but there was still the other the man who was reeling there back turned to him by the electric light switch but even as Jimmy Dale sprang forward this second man clawing at the wall for support slipped to his knees and fell upon the carpet Jimmy Dale reached him snatched the revolver from his hand and bent over him it was the man whose name he did not know but whose face he had reason enough to well it was the leader of the crime club the man though evidently badly wounded smiled defiantly in spite of his pain so you're the grey seal he flung out contemptuously a clever enough safe cracker but only a low brow like the rest of them another illusion dispelled well you've got the money better run hadn't you Jimmy Dale made no answer satisfied that the man was too badly hurt to move he went and bent over the silent form in the center of the room a moment's examination was enough Henry Lassalle was dead he stood there looking down at the man it was what he had come for though it was the magpie not himself who had accomplished it the man was dead the words began to run through his mind in a queer reiteration the man was dead the man was dead he checked himself sharply he must think now think fast and think right the magpie knew that Larry the bat was the grey seal and as fast as the magpie could get there the news would spread like wildfire through the underworld death to the grey seal death to the grey seal he could hear that slogan ringing again in his ears but as he had never heard it before with a snarl of triumph now as a wolf who had at last pulled their quarry down he had not a second to spare and yet that man wounded there on the floor what of him? guilty of murder the brains of this inhuman monstrous organization the one to whom more even than to that dead man the toxin owed the horror the misery and the grief and despair that had come into her life what of him? what of the crime club here? what of this nest of wipers? were they to escape? were they to, with a sudden low exclamation Jimmy Dale jumped for the table and snatching up the telephone rattled the hook violently give me his voice came in well simulated gasps each like a man fighting for every word give me police headquarters quick, quick I've been shot the wounded man on the floor raced himself on his elbow what are you doing? he demanded in a startled way are you mad? thank your stars you were lucky enough to get out of this alive and get out now while you have the chance Jimmy Dale pressed his hand firmly on his piece of the telephone I'll go he said with a cold smile when I've settled with you for the murder of Henry LaSalle that man he accolated the man scornfully pointing to the form on the floor so that's your game going to try and cover your tracks why you fool I live here do you think the police would imagine for an instant that I killed him I said Henry LaSalle said Jimmy Dale evenly the man came father up on his elbow a sudden look of fear in his face what, what do you mean? he cried hoarsely but Jimmy Dale was talking again into the telephone gasping choking out his words as before police headquarters I am Henry LaSalle fifth avenue I've been shot take down this statement I'll, I'll be dead before you get here I'm not the real Henry LaSalle at all we murdered Henry LaSalle in Australia and murdered Peter LaSalle here we, we tried to kill the daughter but she ran away this house has been our headquarters for the last five years the man who shot me tonight was the leader of the gang we quarreled over the division of a hall he's here on the floor now wounded, get them all get them all, damn them do you hear get them all they're out of the house now but lay a trap for them they always come in through the garage on the side street oh, oh god I'm done for down the west walls of the rooms upstairs if you want proof of what the gang has been doing hurry, hurry I'm, I'm done for I Jimi Dale permitted the telephone to drop with a clash from his hand to the table the face of the man on the floor was livid who are you in God's name who are you he cried out widely does it matter inquired Jimi Dale grimly your game is up you will go to the chair for the murder of Henry LaSalle if it is by proxy those rooms upstairs alone are enough to damn you to prove every word of that dying confession but tomorrow added to it will come the story of Marie LaSalle herself for a moment the man hung there swaying on his elbow his face working in ghastly fashion and then suddenly with a strange laugh he carried one hand swiftly to his mouth and laughed again and before Jimi Dale could reach him was lifeless on the floor a tiny vial rolled way upon the carpet Jimi Dale picked it up a drop or two of liquid still remained in it colorless, clear like that liquid this same man had dropped into the rabbit's mouth the night before the liquid in the glasses they had carried into that third room like the liquid that this man had said was from a formula of their own that was instantaneous in its action that defied detection by autopsy the set stern features of Jimi Dale relaxed it was justice but it was also death in a search of emotion the men of scarcely more than 24 hours began to crowd upon him and then, ominously dominant above all else that slogan of the underworld death through the grey seal came ringing once more in his ears it brought him with a startled movement of his hand across his eyes to a realization of his own desperate position yes, yes, he must go the way was clear now for the toxin clear now for her he dropped the vial into his pocket and, running to the safe quickly scraped the grey seal from the dial's knob then he drew the packages of money from his shirt and pockets and tossed them on the floor among the literal papers already there she would get it back again when it had served its purpose it would be self-evident that it was the proceeds of that day's sale of the estate securities of a which the quarrel had occurred and now the window he ran to it closed it and locked it then, laying the revolver he had taken from the leader down beside the man he stepped across the room again and drew the body of Henry LaSalle closer to the table as though the man had fallen there when the telephone had dropped from his hand it was done now on the floor beside him lay each man's weapon and both of the revolvers had been discharged several times Jimmy Dale paused on the library threshold for a final survey of the room it was done the way was clear for her and now, if he could only save himself there was no chance for Larry the bat could he save Jimmy Dale? he crossed the hall the square, half grim half wistful smile on his lips unlocked the front door stepped out locked it behind him and in another moment doubling around the corner was running along like a hare along the side street end of part two chapter 15 of The Adventures of Jimmy Dale by Frank L. Packard read by Lars Rolander