Throw the light on the knob, will you?"
It was barely an instant before Birdie Lee swung back the door.
"Now lock it again," directed Jimmie Dale. And then, as the other
obeyed, he held out his hand to Birdie Lee. "You're clear, Birdie."
A tremor came to the other's face.
"Clear?" repeated Birdie unsteadily.
"Yes--you get your chance. That's one reason why I came here
to-night--to spoil Slimmy Jack's play, to see that you got your chance
if you really wanted it, as"--he added whimsically--"I was informed you
did. Go ahead, Birdie--make your get-away--you're free."
But Birdie Lee shook his head.
"No," he said, and his voice caught again. "It's no good." He pointed to
the still form on the floor. "I guess I go up for more than
safe-crackin' this time. I--I guess it'll be the _chair_. When they find
him here--dead--shot--they'll call it murder--and they'll put it onto
me. The police know we have been together for years. They know he came
here to-day when I got out. We've been seen together to-day. We--we were
seen _quarrelling_ this afternoon in a saloon over on the Bowery. That
was when I was refusin' to start the old play again. They'd have what
looked like an open and shut game against me.
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