In an instant, Jimmie Dale had picked it up. It was not locked, and he
lifted the cover. From within there scintillated back the gleam of
diamonds--a handful of pendants, brooches, ear-rings lay there
disclosed, and, too, a string of pearls. Ten thousand dollars! It was a
modest figure! He reached his hand inside the box--and on the instant
snatched it back, and thrust the box swiftly into his pocket. The
flashlight was out. The room was in darkness.
This time it was not imagination--nor, he knew now, had it been
imagination before. There was a faint creak of the flooring in the
kitchen, a single incautious step that he placed as having come from
near the doorway of the passage--and now some one had halted on the
threshold of the room itself. Jimmie Dale's brain was working with
lightning speed. There had been no time to reach the window--time only
to snatch up his automatic and retreat a little from the immediate
vicinity of the safe. Had the other heard the slight sound--it was only
the brushing of his coat against the wall! Much less had there been time
to close the safe--nor would it have done any good--he could not have
replaced the broken panelling! And now--_what_? The man, with a stealth
that he, Jimmie Dale, except for that one incautious footfall, could not
have excelled, must have entered through a window from the alleyway into
the passage.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173