r--"ain't that
queer! Say, I'm no detective. Gee, kid, did you think I was? Say, listen
to this! I cracked old Isaac's safe half an hour ago--and I guess there
won't be any idea going around that you got the money and I pulled a
lemon. Say, I ain't superstitious, but it looks like luck meant you to
have another chance, don't it?"

The hat dropped from Hagan's hands to the floor, and he swayed a little.

"You--you ain't a dick!" he stammered. "Then how'd you know about me and
my name when you found the safe empty? Who told you?"

A wry grimace spread suddenly over Jimmie Dale's face beneath the mask,
and he swallowed hard. Jimmie Dale would have given a good deal to have
been able to answer that question himself.

"Oh, that!" said Jimmie Dale. "That's easy--I knew you worked there.
Say, it's the limit, ain't it? Talk about your luck being in, why all
you've got to do is to sit tight and keep your mouth shut, and you're
safe as a church. Only say, what are you going to do about the money,
now you've got a four months' start and are kind of landed on your feet?

"Do?" said the boy. "I'll pay it back, little by little. I meant to. I
ain't no--" He stopped abruptly.

"Crook," supplied Jimmie Dale pleasantly. "Spit it right out, kid; you
won't hurt my feelings none. Well, I'll tell you--you're talking the way
I like to hear you--you pay that back, slide it in without his knowing
it, a bit at a time, whenever you can, and you'll never hear a yip out
of me; but if you don't, why it kind of looks as though I have a right
to come down your street and get my share or know the reason why--eh?"

"Then you never get any share," said Hagan, with a catch in his voice.
"I pay it back as fast as I can."

"Sure," said Jimmie Dale. "That's right--that's what I said. Well, so
long--Hagan." And Jimmie Dale had opened the door and slipped outside.

An hour later, in his dressing room in his house on Riverside Drive,
Jimmie Dale was removing his coat as the telephone, a hand instrument on
the table, rang. Jimmie Dale glanced at it--and leisurely proceeded
to remove his vest. Again the telephone rang. Jimmie Dale took off his
curious, pocketed leather belt--as the telephone repeated its summons.
He picked out the little drill he had used a short while before, and
inspected it critically--feeling its point with his thumb, as one might
feel a razor's blade. Again the telephone rang insistently. He reached
languidly for the receiver, took