Thank God for the
circumstances that, prior to this, had led him to duplicate Larry the
Bat's disreputable apparel; thank God for one chance of life--_for
her_--that this afforded now.
The gas was out again, the room was in darkness. Through the little
French window, and hugged close against the wall of the tenement, and
through the loose Aboard in the fence that gave egress to the lane,
Jimmie Dale, as Larry the Bat now, slunk along. And then, in the lane,
he broke into a run. And now, an added peril came--a glimpse of Larry
the Bat by any of gangland's fraternity, man or woman, and it would be
the end! His position now was analogous to hers as Silver Mag before she
had been caught! There would be no parley--it would be the end! But that
was the chance he took, the only chance there was--for her.
But Jimmie Dale knew the East Side. By alleys and lanes, through yards
and over fences, Jimmie Dale made his way along; and when forced into
the open to cross a street, it was a dark, ill-lighted section that was
chosen, and where for a short distance here and there he must needs keep
to the street he held deep in the shadows of the buildings, crouching in
doorways to avoid passers-by.
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