.. Niccolo Sonnino
... end house to left of courtyard entrance ... safe in rear room ...
lives alone ... tonight ..."
For a moment Jimmie Dale did not move as he finished reading the letter,
save that his fingers began to tear the pages into strips, and the
strips over and over again into tiny fragments--then, mechanically, he
dropped the pieces into the pocket of his dinner jacket and mechanically
reached for the newspaper that Jason had picked up and laid on the
table. And now a dull red burned in his cheeks, and the square jaw was
clamped and hard. Strange coincidence! Yes, it was strange--but perhaps
it was more than mere coincidence! He had an interest, a very personal,
vital interest in that article on the front page now, in this combine of
those who were frankly of the dregs of the criminal world and those of a
blacker breed who hid behind the veneer of respectability and station.
He read the article slowly. It was but the resume of the case that had
been under investigation for the past few weeks, the sensation it had
created the greater since the publicity so far given to it had but
hinted darkly at the scope of the exposure to come, while as yet no
names had been mentioned.
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