"The Gray Seal!"
Jimmie Dale's lips were thin and drawn tight together. He made no
answer.
It was Hunchback Joe who broke the silence.
"What's your price?" he asked thickly. "I suppose you've got
those--those other things, or at least you know where they are."
"Yes," said Jimmie Dale grimly, "I know where they are."
"Well"--Hunchback Joe hesitated, fumbling for his words--"we're both
tarred with the same brush, only you're worse than I am. I've got to pay
your price, of course. Make it reasonable. I haven't got all the money
in the world. Tell me where those things are, and name your figures."
"My figure"--Jimmie Dale was clipping off his words--"is a little
information. A trade, Hunchback Joe--mine for yours. I want to know
where Peter Marre, alias Clarke, is?"
Hunchback Joe drew back from the table with a jerk. The whiteness in his
face had changed to an unhealthy, leaden gray. He shook his head.
"I don't know," he said. "That's straight--I've heard of Marre, of
course, everybody has, he's a lawyer; but I never heard of Clarke,
and that's--"
"A lie!" Jimmie Dale cut in, an ugly calm in his voice "You--"
But Jimmie Dale, too, was interrupted.
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