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Updated: June 2, 2025
A dozen of the crimes that had appalled and staggered New York they had committed under his leadership; and then, it seemed, they had quarrelled furiously, the three pitted against Stangeist, threatening him, demanding a more equitable share of the proceeds.
Clarie Deane's cigar had gone out. He rolled the short stub in his mouth, and leaned forward. The bills were evidently just as they had been delivered to the murdered paymaster at the bank, done up with little narrow paper bands in packages of one hundred notes each, save for a small bundle of loose bills which latter, with the rolls of silver, Stangeist swept to one side of the desk.
Stangeist staggered to his feet, wiped the blood out of his eyes for the second time, and, with lips working, went unsteadily across the room to the safe. He knelt before it, and began to manipulate the dial; while the others crowded around behind him. The Mope was fingering his revolver again club fashion.
Package by package, Stangeist went on jotting the amounts down on the pad. "Nix!" growled Clarie Deane suddenly. "Cut that out! Them's fivers in that wad. Make that five hundred instead of one I'm onter yer!" "Mistake," said Stangeist suavely, changing the figures with his pencil. "You're pretty wide awake for this time of night, aren't you, Clarie?" "Oh, I dunno!" responded Clarie Deane gruffly.
Stangeist was certainly alive to the peril that he ran with such a thing in his possession, only the peril had not appealed to him as imminent either from the three thugs with whom he had allied himself, or, much less, from any one else, that was all. Jimmie Dale halted by a low, ornamental stone fence, some three feet high, and stood there for a moment, glancing about him.
"That's all right," submitted Clarle Deane grimly. "There's a quarter of that minute gone." "I won't!" Stangeist flashed out violently. "That's all right," repeated Clarie Deane. "There's half of that minute gone." Jimmie Dale's eyes, in a fascinated sort of way, were on Stangeist.
Stangeist was no fool not the fool that he would appear to be for keeping a document like that, once he had had the temerity to execute it, in his own safe; for, in a day or two, the Tocsin had hinted at this, after holding it over the heads of Australian Ike, The Mope, and Clarie Deane again to drive the force of it a little deeper home, he would undoubtedly destroy it and the SUPPOSITION that it was still in existence would have equally the same effect on the minds of the other three!
The parting in the portieres widened a little more, a very little more, slowly, imperceptibly, until Jimmie Dale, by the simple expedient of moving his head, could obtain an unobstructed view of the entire room. Stangeist tossed a bag he had been carrying on the desk, pulled up a chair opposite to Clarie Deane, and sat down. Both men were side face to Jimmie Dale.
I'd use 'soup' for once, if it weren't that it would put Stangeist wise, and give him a chance to make his get-away before the district attorney got the nippers on the four of them." The light went out. Jimmie Dale dropped to his knees; and, while his left hand passed swiftly, tentatively over dials and handle, he rubbed the fingers of his right hand rapidly to and fro over the carpet.
Was it imagination, a trick of nerves, or no, there it was again! a footfall on the gravel walk at the front of the house. The sound became louder, clearer two footfalls instead of one. It was Stangeist, and somebody was with him. In an instant Jimmie Dale was across the room and kneeling again before the safe. His fingers were flying now.
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