The red crept to
Jimmie Dale's cheeks and burned there, as a sudden, merciless anger
swept upon him. _Who_ was the man who had done this, who sheltered
himself from murder behind the Gray Seal!
He laughed low and bitterly. Only another crime attributed to the Gray
Seal! It would not smirch the Gray Seal any--the Gray Seal had been
accused of worse than this! But the man who had dared to place that gray
seal there would answer for it!
He was still laughing in that low, bitter way, as he knelt now, and
took out his pocketknife. The gray seal, at least, would not be
found--he was lucky there--he had only to scrape it off, and--No--wait!
Would it not be better to leave it there? It would throw the murderer
off his guard if he believed that his plan had worked; and it could make
little difference to the Gray Seal's record to be held guilty of another
murder--temporarily. Temporarily! Yes, that was it! Here was one crime
of which the Gray Seal would be vindicated, and the guilty man be--
"_Jimmie!_"
It seemed to quiver, low-breathed, through the darkness--his name. His
name! Was he bereft of all his senses! His name! Here in this horrible
murder hole! Was he indeed mad with his imaginings, with these voices
that had been whispering, and laughing, and jeering at him out of the
blackness! And, absurdly, it had seemed this time that it was the
Tocsin's voice!
"Jimmie--quick! On the floor under the window!"
He whirled like a flash.
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