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Updated: June 12, 2025
It was to be Jimmie Dale not Smarlinghue who would keep the rendezvous at Malay John's! And now he was back across the room once more, turning out the light as he passed the gas-jet. The leather girdle, that went on much after the fashion of a life-preserver, was fastened over his shoulders and secured around his waist.
"And that's enough talk give me them sparklers!" He flung Jimmie Dale savagely away. "Get 'em!" Smarlinghue reeled backward in the direction of the disordered canvases on the floor. It was quite true! If the Wolf carried out his threat which he most certainly would do if he did not get the diamonds for himself Smarlinghue, and not the Wolf, would be held for the Spider's murder.
"I'm not coming around here any more unless I have to. It might put you in bad. You can make your reports and get your orders through Whitie Karn at his dance hall." "Whitie Karn!" The exclamation seemed to come involuntarily, in a quick, frightened way from Smarlinghue. Clancy's lips twisted in a smile. "Kind of a jolt eh Smarlinghue?
How little the contents of the note itself mattered the one great, glorious fact for the moment was that she was alive! It was a long time before Jimmie Dale raised his head, and then he got up suddenly from his chair, and lit the gas. But even then he hesitated as he turned the note over, speculatively now, in his fingers. So she knew him as Smarlinghue! In some way she had found that out!
The snarl was in his voice again. "You come across with those sparklers, and you come across quick!" But now Smarlinghue was like a crazed and demented creature, and he shook his fists at the Wolf. "I won't! I won't!" he screamed. "You went there to do the same thing! I had as much right as you! And I got them I got them!
And, once here, since he had been forced to lose that much time, he had risked a little more, precious as the moments were, for the advantages, the safety, the freedom of movement, afforded by the character of Smarlinghue. However, it was still but barely eleven o'clock, and the chances were that the Wolf would hardly have deemed it late enough as yet to set to work.
"You give me the icy paw, and I'll see that the tip leaks out from the right quarters that you are a stool pigeon. That'll take care of your finish, too, won't it good and plenty!" Smarlinghue stared miserably. Again and again his tongue circled his lips. Twice he tried to speak and only succeeded in mumbling inarticulately.
How long would it be, even if Smarlinghue were no more than put under surveillance, before the discovery would be made that Smarlinghue was but a role that covered Jimmie Dale! And then Jimmie Dale's strained, set face relaxed a little. His brain had repented of its stubbornness, it seemed, and was at work again.
You'll be well paid for it and have police protection. You ought to know what that'll mean to you eh? You live like a gutter-snipe here half starved most of the time, for all you can get out of those ungodly daubs!" A curious dignity came to Smarlinghue. He sat upright. "It is my art," he said. "I have starved for it many years. Some day I will get recognition. Some day I "
He slipped the flashlight into his pocket, took his automatic from the discarded garments of Smarlinghue and, thrusting the ragged clothing into the opening, put the removable section of the base-board back into place. And now, twin to that streak of lesser gloom that came from the top-light, another filtered into the room.
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