Brain and eyes and hands were working now with incredible speed. That it
was a sound-proof room was not, perhaps, altogether an unmixed blessing!
Was the place deserted? Was there any one within? He could hear nothing.
Well, after all, did it make any ultimate difference? The room itself
would condemn them!
The picklock was at work again--working silently--working swiftly. And
now, in its place, his automatic was in his hand.
He crouched a little--and with a spring, flinging wide the door, was in
the room. There was a smothered cry, an oath, the crash of an
overturned chair, as two men, from a table heaped with little piles of
crisp, new banknotes, sprang wildly to their feet: And Jimmie Dale's
lips twisted in a smile not good to see. Standing there before him were
Curley and Haines.
"Keep your seats, gentlemen--please!" said Jimmie Dale, with grim irony.
"I shall only stay a moment. It is Mr. Curley and Mr. Haines, I
believe--in their _private_ office! Permit me!"--he reached out with his
left hand, and closed the door. "Ah, I see there is a good serviceable
bolt on it. I have your permission?"--he slipped the bolt into place.
"As I said, I shall only stay a moment; but it would be unfortunate,
most unfortunate, if we were by any chance interrupted--prematurely!"
Haines, ashen white, was gripping at the table edge.
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