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Updated: June 19, 2025
And now Slimmy Jack, from his negligent pose, straightened sharply and leaned toward Birdie Lee. "Say, what's the matter with you, Birdie!" he exclaimed roughly. "You didn't let 'em get your nerve up the river, did you? You've been acting kind of queer all day. I told you before, Malay wouldn't be back in time to monkey with us. We don't have to stand for this I told you that, too.
"I can open it all right," said Birdie, moving slowly forward; "and quicker than you did, because I got the combination when I was workin' on it with Slimmy watchin'. Throw the light on the knob, will you?" It was barely an instant before Birdie Lee swung back the door. "Now lock it again," directed Jimmie Dale. And then, as the other obeyed, he held out his hand to Birdie Lee.
"Got it?" he demanded eagerly. "No curse it!" gritted Birdie Lee. "My fingers seem to have lost their touch I ain't had much practice for the last five years up there in Sing Sing!" "Well, then, 'soup' it!" grunted Slimmy Jack. "You could blow the roof off, and no one would be the wiser with that racket downstairs. We can't waste all night over it." "What are you going to 'soup' it with?"
Birdie Lee flung back gruffly. "We didn't bring nothing. You said " "I know I did!" A sullen menace had crept suddenly into Slimmy Jack's voice. "I said you could open an old tin can like that with your hands tied and so you can. Try it again!" Jimmie Dale's fingers stole inside his shirt, and into a pocket of the leather girdle, and brought forth a black silk mask.
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