"You mean," said Burton excitedly, "you mean that all these crimes of
yours that have seemed without motive, that have been so inexplicable,
have really been like to-night to--"

"I don't mean anything at all," interposed Jimmie Dale a little
hurriedly. "Nothing, Burton--except that there is still one little thing
more to do to bolster up that 'childish' story of mine--and then get
out of here." He glanced sharply, critically around the room, his eyes
resting for a moment at the last on the form on the floor. Then tersely:
"I am going to turn out the light--we will have to pass the window to
get to the door, and we will invite no chances. Are you ready?"

"No; not yet," said Burton eagerly. "I haven't said what I'd like to say
to you, what I--"

"Walk straight to the door," said Jimmie Dale curtly. There was the
click of an electric-light switch, and the room was in darkness. "Now,
no noise!" he instructed.

And Burton, perforce, made his way across the room--and at the door
Jimmie Dale joined him and led him down the short flight of stairs. At
the bottom, he opened the door leading into the rear of the pawnshop
itself, and, bidding Burton follow, entered.

"We can't risk even a match; it could be seen from the street," he said
brusquely, as he fumbled around for a moment in the darkness. "Ah--here
it is!" He lifted a telephone receiver from its hook, and gave a number.

Burton caught him quickly by the arm.

"Good Lord, man, what are you doing?" he protested anxiously. "That's
Mr. Maddon's house!"

"So I believe," said Jimmie Dale complacently. "Hello! Is Mr. Maddon
there? . . . I beg pardon? . . . Personally, yes, if you please."

There was a moment's wait. Burton's hand was still nervously clutching
at Jimmie Dale's sleeve. Then:

"Mr. Maddon?" asked Jimmie Dale pleasantly. "Yes? . . . I am very sorry
to trouble you, but I called you up to inquire if you were aware that
your rubies, and among them your Aracon, had been stolen? . . . I beg
pardon! . . . Rubies--yes. . . . You weren't. . . . Oh, no, I am quite
in my right mind; if you will take the trouble to open your safe you
will find they are gone--shall I hold the line while you investigate?
. . . What? . . . Don't shout, please--and stand a little farther away
from the mouthpiece." Jimmie Dale's tone was one of insolent composure
now. "There is really no use in getting excited. . . . I beg pardon? . . .
Certainly, this is the Gray Seal speaking. . .