Jimmie Dale mounted this, found that
it gave on a crudely furnished, attic-like bedroom, and then descending
again, he opened the rear door of the partition, and flashed his light
around the back of the shed. There were a few packing cases here--that
was all. The shed was evidently built out to the extreme end of the
pier, judging from its depth; and there had been side doors, but these
were boarded up and bore evidence of having been long out of use--and
there were no windows.
Jimmie Dale returned now to the front of the shed.
"Under the sail-cloth in left corner," she had written. Yes, here it
was! He stooped down, a twisted smile on his lips, and, taking from his
pocket the packet of papers and the blackjack, tucked them under several
folds of the cloth. "Unto Caesar!" she had said. Well, he had rendered
back to "Caesar" the things that were "Caesar's." He straightened up.
The Secret Service men would know where to look--she would have seen to
that! "Unto Caesar!" The smile died away, and an angry red tinged Jimmie
Dale's cheeks--he was picturing again that scene in Klanner's room, the
bestial deviltry of that deformed and hideous creature who, to cover up
his own guilt, was railroading an innocent man to death.
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