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Something made him take a fancy to Markel, and he used to ask him to see him. The young man would spend whole evenings with him during that winter, till the exile was summoned to Petersburg to take up his post again at his own request, as he had powerful friends.
Only now and then, in a strange, projected, wraithlike effect, the moon ray glinted timidly on the tip of a nickel dial, and, ghostlike, disclosed a human hand. Upstairs, Markel coughed again. Then from the safe a whisper, heavy-breathed as from great exertion: "MISSED IT!" The dial whirled with faint, musical, little metallic clicks; then began to move slowly again, very, very slowly.
There was a wild yell of terror and surprise from Markel, then a deafening roar and a spit of flame from his revolver a bitter, smothered exclamation from Jimmie Dale as the cash box crashed to the floor from his left hand, and he was upon the other like a tiger. With the impact, both men went to the floor, grappled, and rolled over and over.
Like a thing of living, pulsing fire it rolled before their eyes a magnificent diamond necklace, of wondrous beauty, gleaming and scintillating as the light rays shot back from a thousand facets. For a moment, both men gazed at it without a word. "Little surprise for my wife," volunteered Markel, with a debonair wave of his pudgy hand, and trying to make his voice sound careless.
On the north we are slowly forcing the French back on either river bank a very costly proceeding, as each wing must advance an equal amount, or the one that advances is enfiladed from across the river. We are also slowly creeping forward from the east and north-east in the direction of Douaumont. I am attached to a 105-cm. battery, a young Major von Markel in command, a most charming fellow.
And then I remembered my brother Markel and what he said on his death-bed to his servants: “My dear ones, why do you wait on me, why do you love me, am I worth your waiting on me?”
The yellow sheet of a telegram caught Jimmie Dale's eye. He picked it up and glanced at it. It read: "Vein uncovered to-day. Undoubtedly mother lode. Enormously rich. Put the screws on at once. Under the mask, Jimmie Dale's lips twitched. "I think, Markel, you miserable hound," said he softly, "that God will forgive me for depriving you of a share of the profits.
If so, the ruined vehicle might prove almost as valuable and instructive to the mechanical world as the man himself. But since the accident to the schooner "Markel" on Lake Kirdall, no news of him whatever had reached the police. On this point Mr. Ward did not attempt to hide his disappointment and his anxiety.
Jimmie Dale, still covering Markel with the weapon, stood up. The frightened faces of women protruded over the banisters above. The two men-servants, at best none too enthusiastically on the way down, stopped as though stunned as Jimmie Dale swung the revolver upon them. Then Jimmie Dale spoke to Markel pointing the weapon at Markel again. "I don't like you, Markel," he said, with cold impudence.
Don't move! Do what he tells you!" "Thank you!" said Jimmie Dale grimly. "Now, get up yourself!" Markel got up. Jimmie Dale backed to the library door, picked up the cash box, tucked it under his left armpit, and faced those on the stairs. "Mr. Markel and I are going out for a little walk," he announced coolly.
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