Sonnino himself was a crafty little man, but
craftiness, if it did not transgress the law, was not a crime; he was
undoubtedly a usurer in his petty way, and he was both feared and
disliked, but beyond that no one pretended to know anything about him.
Ordinarily, Sonnino's safe, then, might be expected to be rather a
barren affair, hardly a lure for a Gentleman Laroque brand of crook!
Why, then, Sonnino's safe to-night? What was in that letter signed "J.
Barca" that Clarie Archman had received? J. Barca was Gentleman Laroque;
that would have been evident in any case, even if the Tocsin had not
expressly said so--but the letter! Did the letter, apart from its
incriminating ingenuity, supply the answer to his question? Had Sonnino,
for instance, by some lucky turn, disposed of his stock in bulk, and was
thus for the moment in possession of an unusually large amount of cash;
or, inversely, had Sonnino received an unusual stock of stones? Either
of these theories, and equally neither one of them, might furnish the
answer! Jimmie Dale shrugged his shoulders grimly. He would find the
answer--in Sonnino's safe! One thing, however, one thing that might have
had some bearing on Laroque's choice, one thing for which he, Jimmie
Dale, was grateful to Laroque for making such a choice, was that
Sonnino's place lent itself admirably to attack--from the standpoint of
the attacker! A black courtyard, screened completely from the street; a
house that--
Jimmie Dale looked up suddenly, and, as suddenly, leaning forward, he
touched Benson's shoulder.
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