e. He was conscious of a sickening sense
of disaster. His hope against hope had been in vain--the letter had been
opened and read--THE IDENTITY OF THE GRAY SEAL WAS SOLVED.

Dago Jim's voice roared out, hoarse, blasphemous, in drunken rage:

"De Gray Seal--see! Youse betcher life I knows! I been waitin' fer
somet'ing like dis, damn youse! Youse been stallin' on me fer a year
every time it came to a divvy. Youse've got a pocketful now youse
snitched to-night dat youse are tryin' to do me out of. Well, keep
'em"--he shoved his face forward. "I keeps dis--see! Keep 'em Wowzer,
youse cross-eyed--"

"Everyt'ing I pinched to-night's on de table dere wid wot youse pinched
yerself," cut in the Wowzer, in a sullen, threatening growl.

"Youse lie, an' youse knows it!" retorted Dago Jim. "Youse have given me
de short end every time we've pulled a deal!"

"Dat letter's mine, youse--" bawled the Wowzer furiously.

"Why didn't youse open it an' read it, den, instead of lettin' me do it
to keep me busy while youse short-changed me?" sneered Dago Jim. "Youse
t'ought it was some sweet billy-doo, eh? Well, t'anks, Wowzer--dat's wot
it is! Say," he mocked, "dere's a guy'll cash a t'ousand century notes
fer dis, an' if he don't--say, dere's SOME reward out fer the Gray
Seal! Wouldn't youse like to know who it is? Well, when I'm ridin' in
me private buzz wagon, Wowzer, youse stick around an' mabbe I'll tell
youse--an' mabbe I won't!"

"By God"--the Wowzer's voice rose in a scream--"youse hand over dat
letter!"

"Youse go to--"

Red, lurid red, a stream of flame seemed to cut across Jimmie Dale's
line of vision, came the roar of a revolver shot--and like a madman
Jimmie Dale flung his body at the door. Rickety at best, it crashed
inward, half wrenched from its hinges, precipitating him inside. He
recovered himself and leaped forward. The room was swirling with blue
eddies of smoke; Dago Jim, hands flung up, still grasping letter and
pocketbook, pawed at the air--and plunged with a sagging lurch face
downward to the floor. There was a yell and an oath from the Wowzer--the
crack of another revolver shot, the hum of the bullet past Jimmie Dale's
ear, the scorch of the tongue flame in his face, and he was upon the
other.

Screeching profanity, the Wowzer grappled; and, for an instant, the two
men rocked, reeled, and swayed in each other's embrace; then, both
men losing their balance, they shot suddenly backward, the Wowzer,
undermos