mie Dale tossed a coin on the
table, bidding the other keep the change. He wanted no drink; the
transaction was wholly perfunctory. The waiter was gone; he pushed the
glass away from him, and tore the envelope open.

A single sheet, closely written on both sides of the paper, was in his
hand. It was her writing; there was no mistaking that, but every word,
every line bore evidence of frantic haste. Even that customary formula,
"dear philanthropic crook," that had prefaced every line she had ever
written him before, had been omitted. His eyes traversed the first few
lines with that strange indifference that had settled upon him. What,
after all, did it matter what it was; he could do nothing--not even save
himself probably. And then, with a little start, he read the lines over
again, muttering snatches from them.

". . . Max Diestricht--diamonds--the Ross-Logan stones--wedding--sliding
panel in wall of workshop--end of the room near window--ten boards to
the right from side wall--press small knot in the wood in the centre of
the tenth board--to-night . . ."

It brought a sudden thrill of excitement to Jimmie Dale that, impossible
as he would have believed it an instant ago, for the moment overshadowed
the realisation of his own peril. A robbery such as that, if it were
ever accomplished, would stir the country from end to end; it would set
New York by the ears; it would loose the police in full cry like a pack
of bloodhounds with their leashes slipped. The society columns of the
newspapers had been busy for months featuring the coming marriage of the
Ross-Logans' daughter to one of the country's young merchant princes.
The combined fortunes of the two families would make the young couple
the richest in America. The prospective groom's wedding gift was to be
a diamond necklace of perfectly matched, large stones that would eclipse
anything of the kind in the country. Europe, the foreign markets, had
been literally combed and ransacked to supply the gems. The stones had
arrived in New York the day before, the duty on them alone amounting to
over fifty thousand dollars. All this had appeared in the papers.

Jimmie Dale's brows drew together in a frown. On just exactly what
percentage the duty was figured he did not know; but it was high
enough on the basis of fifty thousand dollars to assume safely that the
assessed value of the stones was not less than four times that amount.
Two hundred thousand dollars--laid down,