"Between four and five thousand dollars."
"That's too bad," murmured Jimmie Dale. He took the banknotes from his
pocket, and laid them on the desk. "I am afraid it is not quite all
here--but I can assure you it is all they had."
He held out his hand.
"But you're not going! You're not going that way!" cried the colonel,
and his eyes filled suddenly. "How am I to repay you, how am I to--"
"Very easily," smiled Jimmie Dale; "and, to use your own expression,
very adequately--by remaining here, say, three minutes after I have
left." He caught the colonel's hand in his and wrung it hard--and then,
with a "Goodnight!" flung over his shoulder, Jimmie Dale was gone.
CHAPTER VI
THE REHABILITATION OF LARRY THE BAT
The small French window of the new Sanctuary, that gave on the dirty
little courtyard which, in turn, paralleled a black and narrow lane,
with its high, board fence, opened cautiously, noiselessly. A dark form
slipped silently into the room. The window was closed again. The
dilapidated roller shade was drawn down, and, guided by the sense of
touch, the rent that gaped across it was carefully pinned together.
There was no moon to shine in through the top-light and uncharitably
disclose the greasy, ragged carpet, or the squalor of the room.
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