"Say, youse, Ike, pipe it! Dere's a window open in the snitch's room.
Come on, we'll get in dere. It'll make the hair stand up on the back of
his neck fer a starter."

"Aw, ferget it!" replied another voice. "Can the tee-ayter stunt!
Clarie leaves the front door unfastened, don't he? An' dey'll be in dere
in a minute now. Wotcher want ter do? Crab the game? He might hear us
an' fix Clarie before we had a chanst, the skinny old fox! An' dere's
the light now--see! Beat it on yer toes fer the front of the house!"

The room was flooded with light. Through the portieres, that Jimmie Dale
parted by the barest fraction of an inch, he could see Stangeist and
another man, a thick-set, ugly-faced-looking customer--Clarie Deane,
according to that brief, whispered colloquy that he had heard outside.
He looked again through the window. The two dark forms had disappeared
now, but they had disappeared just a few seconds too late--with the two
other men now in the room, and one of them so close that Jimmie Dale
could almost have reached out and touched him, it was impossible to
get through the window without being detected, when the slightest sound
would attract instant attention and equally instant suspicion. It was a
chance to be taken only as a last resort.

Jimmie Dale's face grew hard, as his fingers closed around his automatic
and drew the weapon from his pocket. It was all plain enough. That last
act in the drama which he had speculatively anticipated was being staged
with little loss of time--and in a grim sort of way the thought flashed
across his mind that, perilous as his own position was, Stangeist at
that moment was in even greater peril than himself. Australian Ike, The
Mope, and Clarie Deane, given the chance, and they seemed to have made
that chance now, were not likely to deal in half measures--Clarie Deane
had dropped into a chair beside the desk; and The Mope and Australian
Ike were creeping around to the front door!

The parting in the portieres widened a little more, a very little more,
slowly, imperceptibly, until Jimmie Dale, by the simple expedient of
moving his head, could obtain an unobstructed view of the entire room.

Stangeist tossed a bag he had been carrying on the desk, pulled up a
chair opposite to Clarie Deane, and sat down. Both men were side face to
Jimmie Dale.

"You tell the boys," said Stangeist abruptly, "to fade away after this
for a while. Things are getting too hot. And you tell The Mope