mercy of--Larry
the Bat!"

An instant he stood by the door, looking about him--in the bright
moonlight streaming in through the side windows the room's appointments
stood out in soft shadows, the huge davenport, the great, luxurious
easy-chairs, an easel with a half-finished canvas, as he had left it;
the big, flat-topped, rosewood desk, the open fireplace--and then, his
steps silent on the thick velvet rug under foot, he walked quickly to
the desk.

Yes, there it was--the letter. He placed it hurriedly in his pocket--the
moonlight was not strong enough to read by, and he dared not turn on the
lights.

And now money--funds. In the alcove behind the portiere, Jimmie Dale
dropped on his knees before the squat, barrel-shaped safe, and opened
it. He reached inside, took out a package of banknotes, placed the bills
in his pocket--and hesitated a moment. What else would he require? What
act did that letter call upon the Gray Seal to perform in the next few
hours? Jimmie Dale stared thoughtfully into the interior of the safe.
Whatever it was, it must be performed in the role of Larry the Bat, for
though he could get into his dressing room now, and become Jimmie Dale
again, there were still those watchers outside the Sanctuary--THEY must
not become suspicious--and if Larry the Bat disappeared mysteriously,
Larry the Bat would be the man that Kline and the secret service of the
United States would never cease hunting for, and that would mean that
he could never reassume a character that was as necessary for his
protection as breath was to life, so long as the Gray Seal worked. True,
he could change now to Jimmie Dale, but he would have to change back
again and return to the Sanctuary before morning, as Larry the Bat--and
remain there until Kline, beaten, called off his human bloodhounds. No,
a change was not to be thought of.

What, then, would he require--that compact little kit of burglar tools,
rolled in its leather jacket, that, unrolled slipped about his body like
a close-fitting undervest? As well to take it anyway. He removed his
coat and vest, took out the leather bundle from the safe, untied the
thongs that bound it together, unrolled it, passed it around his body,
life belt fashion, secured the thongs over his shoulders, and put on
his coat and vest again. A revolver, a flashlight? He had both--at
the Sanctuary, under the flooring--but there were duplicates here! He
slipped them into his pockets. Anything else--to