"Silver Mag!" he said.
It seemed to Jimmie Dale as though the clutch of an icy hand was
suddenly at his heart, as though the ground beneath his feet had grown
suddenly unstable and that the Wowzer's face, close to his own, was
swirling around and around in swift and endless gyrations--but he was
conscious, too, that he was master of himself. The muscles of his face
twitched--but it was to express incredulity. His tongue carried the
cigarette butt languidly back to the other corner of his mouth.
"Aw, go on!" said Jimmie Dale. "Try it on somebody else! Silver Mag
croaked out the night they had that fire down there in the old
tenement."
"Yes, she did--nix!" scoffed the Wowzer, with a short laugh. "De same
way dat blasted snitch of a Gray Seal did--eh? Say, Smarly, I'm handin'
it to youse straight. Dey caught her snoopin' around one of de en-trays
into Foo Sen's half an hour ago. Say, de whole mob all de way up de
line's been tipped off. I'm givin' youse de real thing. Youse must have
been asleep somewhere, or youse'd have been wise before."
"Sure--I believe you!" said Jimmie Dale earnestly. "Who caught
her, Wowzer?"
"De Mole," replied the Wowzer.
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