e
cross street as another.

He turned into the cross street, went along it--and presently emerged
into the full tide of the Bowery. It was garishly lighted; people
swarmed about him. Subconsciously, there were crowded sidewalks;
subconsciously, he was on the Bowery--that was all.

Ruin, disaster, peril faced him--faced him, and staggered him with the
suddenness of the shock. Was it true? No; it could not be true! It was
a bluff--Whitey Mack was bluffing. Jimmie Dale's lips grew thin in a
mirthless smile as he shook his head. Neither Whitey Mack nor any other
man would dare to bluff like that. It was too straight, too open-handed,
Whitey Mack had laid his cards too plainly on the table. Whitey Mack's
words rang in his ears: "I'll LEAD you to the Gray Seal to-night and
help you nab him and stay with you to the finish." The man meant what he
said, meant what he said, too, about the "finish" of the Gray Seal; not
a man in the Bad Lands but meant--death to the Gray Seal! But how, by
what means, when, where had Whitey Mack got his information? "I'm the
only one that's wise," Whitey Mack had said. It seemed impossible. It
WAS impossible! Whitey Mack was sincere enough probably in what he had
said, but the man simply could not know. Whitey Mack could only have
spotted some one that, for some reason or other, he IMAGINED was the
Gray Seal. That was it--must be it! Whitey Mack had made a mistake. What
clew could he have obtained to--

Over the unwashed face of Larry the Bat a gray pallor spread slowly. His
fingers were plucking at the frayed edge of his inside vest pocket.
The dark eyes seemed to turn coal-black. A laugh, like the laugh of one
damned, rose to his lips, and was choked back. It was gone! GONE! That
thin metal case, like a cigarette case, that, between the little sheets
of oil paper, held those diamond-shaped, gray-coloured, adhesive seals,
the insignia of the Gray Seal--was gone! Clew! It seemed as though there
were an overpowering nausea upon him. CLEW! That little case was not a
clew--it was a death warrant!

His hands clenched fiercely. If he could only think for a moment! The
lining of his pocket had given away. The case had dropped out. But there
was nothing about the case to identify any one as the Gray Seal unless
it were found in one's actual possession. Therefore Whitey Mack, to have
solved his identity, must have seen him drop the case. There could be no
question about that. It was equally obvious the