d from them now. There seemed something almost uncanny in the
silent tread. Stair after stair he descended, his entire weight thrown
gradually upon one foot before the other was lifted. The strain upon the
muscles, trained and hardened as they were, told. As he moved from the
bottom step, he wiped little beads of perspiration from his forehead.

The door, now, that gave on the alleyway! He opened it, slipped outside,
darted across the narrow lane, stole along where the shadows of the
fence were blackest, paused, listening, as he reached the end of the
alleyway, to assure himself that there was no near-by pedestrian--and
stepped out into the street.

He kept on along the block, turned into the Bowery, and, under the first
lamp, consulted his watch. It was a quarter past ten. He could make
it easily in a leisurely walk. He continued on up the Bowery, finally
crossed to Broadway, and shortly afterward turned into Waverly Place.
At the corner of Fifth Avenue he consulted his watch again--and now he
lighted a cigarette. Sixth Avenue was only a block away. At precisely
half-past ten, to the second, he halted on the designated corner,
smoking nonchalantly.

A taxicab, coincidentally coming from an uptown direction, swung in to
the curb.

"Taxi, sir? Yes, sir?" Then, with an admirable mingling of eagerness to
secure the fare and a fear that his confession might cause him the loss
of it: "I've another fare in half an hour, sir, but I can get you most
anywhere in that time."

Jimmie Dale's cigarette was tossed carelessly into the street.

"St. James Club!" he said curtly, and stepped into the cab.

The cab started forward, turned the corner, and headed along Waverly
Place toward Broadway. The chauffeur twisted around in his seat in a
matter-of-fact way, as though to ask further directions.

"Have you anything for me?" he inquired casually.

It lay where it always lay, that ring, between the folds of that little
white glove in his pocketbook. Jimmie Dale took it out now, and handed
it silently to the chauffeur.

The other's face changed instantly--composure was gone, and a quick,
strained look was in its place.

"I'm afraid I've been watched," he said tersely. "Look behind you, will
you, and tell me if you see anything?"

Jimmie Dale glanced backward through the little window in the hood.

"There's another taxi just turned in from Sixth Avenue," he reported the
next instant.

"Keep your eye on it!" instructed the