ttle alcove, opened the safe,
took out that curious leather girdle with its kit of burglar's tools,
added to it a flashlight and an automatic revolver, closed the safe--and
passed into his dressing room. Here, he proceeded to divest himself
rapidly of his evening clothes, selecting in their stead a suit of dark
tweed. He heard Jason come up the stairs, pass along the hall, and mount
the second flight to his own quarters; and presently came the sound of
an automobile without. The dressing room fronted on the Drive--Jimmie
Dale looked out. Benson was just getting out of the touring car.
Slipping the leather girdle, then, around his waist, Jimmie Dale put on
his vest, then his coat--and walked briskly downstairs.

Jason had laid out a gray ulster on the hall stand. Jimmie Dale put it
on, selected a leather cap with motor-goggle attachment that pulled down
almost to the tip of his nose, tucked a slouch hat into the pocket of
the ulster, and, leaving the house, climbed into his car.

He glanced at his watch as he started--it was a quarter of eleven.
Jimmie Dale's lips pursed a little.

"I guess it'll make a night of it, and a tight squeeze, at that, to get
back under cover before daylight," he muttered. "I'll have to do some
tall speeding."

But at first, across the city and through Brooklyn, for all his
impatience, it was necessarily slow--after that, Jimmie Dale took
chances, and, once on the country roads of Long Island, the big,
powerful car tore through the night like a greyhound whose leash is
slipped.

A half hour passed--Jimmie Dale's eyes shifting occasionally from the
gray thread of road ahead of him under the glare of the dancing lamps,
to the road map spread out at his feet, upon which, from time to time,
he focused his pocket flashlight. And then, finally, he slowed the car
to a snail's pace--he should be very near his destination--that very
ultra-exclusive subdivision of Charleton Park Manor.

On either side of the road now was quite a thickly set stretch of wooded
land, rising slightly on the right--and this Jimmie Dale scrutinised
sharply. In fact, he stopped for an instant as he came opposite to a
wagon track--it seemed to be little more than that--that led in through
the trees.

"If it's not too far from the seat of war," commented Jimmie Dale to
himself, as he went on again, "it will do admirably."

And then, a hundred yards farther on, Jimmie Dale nodded his head in
satisfaction--he was passing