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Updated: June 6, 2025
Those documents and that blackjack are here in this place, and the Secret Service men know where to find them." Jimmie Dale's watch was in his hand. "It's five minutes to twelve. They'll be here at midnight. I've got to make my getaway before they come. I need two minutes for that, including locking you in so that you can't get away. That leaves you three minutes to make up your mind.
The minutes passed, five of them, and then Jimmie Dale, too, was making his way softly along the areaway to the street but in Jimmie Dale's pockets were the short leaden blackjack, ugly for the stain on its leathern covering, the packet of papers, and the roll of banknotes that had been in Klanner's trunk.
He was as little able, during the early stages of his meditations, to say where he was hurt most as a man who had been stabbed in the back, bitten in the ankle, hit in the eye, smitten with a blackjack, and kicked on the shin in the same moment of time.
She looked like another scrubwoman, living down the street, who was known always to carry a sum of money in her dress pocket, the banks being untrustworthy. Mrs. Reardon, passing along in the dusk of the early morning, had been hit on the head with a blackjack. The one blow had killed her.
His fingers opened and the blackjack dropped from his hand to the floor. "For the love o' Mike, who is this guy?" demanded one of the other men. "I'm the fifth member of our little party," explained Clay. "Wot t'ell do youse mean? And what's the big idea in most killin' the chief?" The man who had been flung across the table turned over and groaned.
Dice rolled, bounced, and tumbled to a stop on the gleaming green felt. People cheered or groaned. The roulette wheels were in a different section. The blackjack dealers were beyond the roulette wheels. At the far end of the casino, behind bars, cashiers exchanged chips for money or vice versa. Cashing in your chips, for real, Oliver thought. He pushed $1000 toward a cashier. "What do you want?"
McRae swore at me, he seemed to be intoxicated and he looked and acted like a maniac, he said 'If you fellows ever come back some of you will die, that's all there is to it. I said, 'I don't think there is any necessity for killing anybody, and he answered 'I will kill you if you come back, and he raised his blackjack and said 'Run! I said 'I wont run, and he hit me again and I dropped to the ground.
As his wrist went back by fractions of an inch, his fingers were forced to relax. I knew the trick. It was the scientific way to open a clenched fist. As the tendons refused to stretch any farther, his fingers straightened, and a murderous looking blackjack clattered to the floor. All was confusion. Money which was on the various tables disappeared as if by magic.
Three men were sitting round a table. They were making a bluff at playing cards, but their attention was focused on a door that evidently led into another room. Two automatic revolvers were on the table close to the hands of their owners. A blackjack lay in front of the third man. Clay recognized him as Gorilla Dave. The other two were strangers to him. They were waiting.
He did not want to use a gun unless he had to, and the loaded end of a good quirt makes a very efficient substitute for a blackjack. But there was no movement save the wind, so presently he followed the wall of the house down to the corner, stood there listening for awhile and went on, feeling his way rapidly around the entire yard as a blind man feels out a room that is strange to him.
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