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There was a blur of forms and brass buttons behind Mittel and Jimmie Dale leaped to the lawn, speeding across it like a deer. But quick as he ran, Jimmie Dale's brain was quicker, pointing the single chance that seemed open to him. The motor boat!
He smiled miserably at Jimmie Dale. "QUICK!" Jimmie Dale flung out the word in a sharp, peremptory bark. "Do you need to be told that the CARTRIDGES are dry?" Mittel's hand, trembling, went into his pocket and produced an envelope. "Open it!" commanded Jimmie Dale. "And lay it on the desk, so that I can read it I am too wet to touch it." Mittel obeyed like a dog that has been whipped.
Pardon me if I take the liberty of helping myself; one gets a chill in wet clothes so easily" he passed to the liqueur stand, poured out a generous portion from one of the decanters, and tossed it off. Mittel neither spoke nor moved. Stupefaction, surprise, and a very obvious regard for Jimmie Dale's revolver mingled themselves in a helpless expression on his face.
In and out amongst these green hills of what they call here the "Mittel Land" ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it with a feverish haste.
He is compelled to serve the lord of the land every year with so much labor of his hands. The small farmers, the 'Gross' and 'Mittel Bauern', we call them, are also mortgaged to the nobles who tyrannize our Vaterland. Our merchants are little merchants shopkeepers, you would say. My poor father, an educated man, was such. They fought our revolution."
I have ten of it here, contributed by the Weasel and Hamvert; and you will, I think, recognise therein a certain element of poetic justice but I am still short five thousand dollars." Jimmie Dale removed the cover from the tin can. Mittel gazed at the contents numbly. "You perhaps did not hear me?" prompted Jimmie Dale coldly. "I am still short five thousand dollars."
Once more Mittel obeyed and dropped the book hesitantly on the desk. Jimmie Dale stared silently, insolently, contemptuously at the other. Mittel stirred uneasily, sat down, shifted his feet, and his fingers fumbled aimlessly over the top of the desk. "Compared with you," said Jimmie Dale, in a low voice, "the Weasel, ay, and Hamvert, too, crooks though they are, are gentlemen!
Jimmie Dale set down his glass and pointed to a chair in front of the desk. "Sit down, Mr. Mittel," he invited pleasantly. "It will be quite apparent to you that I have not time to prolong our interview unnecessarily, in view of the possible return of the police at any moment, but you might as well be comfortable.
You will pardon me again if I take another liberty" he crossed the room, turned the key in the lock of the door leading into the hall, and returned to the desk. "Sit down, Mr. Mittel!" he repeated, a sudden rasp in his voice. Mittel, none too graciously, now seated himself. "Look here, my fine fellow," he burst out, "you're carrying things with a pretty high hand, aren't you?
A glance at the paper, and Jimmie Dale's eyes lifted again to sweep the floor of the room. He pointed to a pile of books and documents in one corner that had been thrown out of the safe. "Go over there and pick up that check book!" he ordered tersely. "What for?" Mittel made feeble protest. "Never mind what for!" snapped Jimmie Dale. "Go and get it and HURRY!"
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