the Bowery.

The answer would not come--only the fact itself grew more and more
deeply significant. The ghastly, callous fiendishness that lured an
old, half-witted man to his death had Jimmie Dale in that grip of cold,
merciless anger again, and there was a dull flush now upon his cheeks.
Whatever it meant, whatever was behind it, one thing at least was
certain--HE WOULD GET CONNIE MYERS!

He was close to the Sanctuary now--it was down the next cross street. He
reached the corner and turned it, heading east; but his brisk walk had
changed to a nonchalant saunter--there were some people coming toward
him. It was the Gray Seal now, alert and cautious. The little group
passed by. Ahead, the tenement bordering on the black alleyway loomed
up--the Sanctuary, with its three entrances and exits; the home of Larry
the Bat. And across from it was that other tenement, that held a new
interest for him now, where, in an empty room on the second floor,
she had said, old Doyle still lay. Should he go there? He was thinking
quickly now, and shook his head. It would take what he did not have to
spare--time. It was already ten o'clock; and, granted that Connie Myers
had committed the crime only a little over an hour ago, the man by this
time would certainly be on his way to Doyle's house near Pelham, if,
indeed, he were not already there. No, there was no time to spare--the
question resolved itself simply into how long, since he had already
searched twice and failed on both occasions, it would take Connie Myers
to unearth old Doyle's hiding place for the money.

Jimmie Dale glanced sharply around him, slipped into the alleyway, and,
crouching against the tenement wall, moved noiselessly along to the side
entrance. A moment more, and he had negotiated the rickety stairs with
practiced, soundless tread, was inside the squalid quarters of Larry the
Bat, and the door of the Sanctuary was locked and bolted behind him.

Perhaps five minutes passed--and then, where Jimmie Dale, the
millionaire, had entered, there emerged Larry the Bat, of the
aristocracy and the elite of the Bad Lands. But instead of leaving by
the side door and the alleyway, as he had entered, he went along the
lower hallway to the front entrance. And here, instinctively, he paused
a moment at the top of the steps, as his eyes rested upon the tenement
on the opposite side of the street.

It was strange that the crime should have been committed there!
Something again see