ath it from dust,
and Jimmie Dale sprang for it, whipped back the canvas, and crawled
underneath. He was not an instant too soon. As the canvas fell back into
place, the shop door opened, closed, and the two men had stepped inside.

Whitey Mack's voice, in a low whisper though it was, seemed to echo
raucously through the shop.

"Mabbe we'll have a sweet wait, but I got the straight dope on this.
He's going to make a try for Dutchy's sparklers to-night. We'll let him
go the limit, and we don't either of us make a move till he's pinched
them, and then we get him with the goods on him. He can't get away;
he hasn't a hope! There's only two ways of getting in here or getting
out--this door and window here, and a window that's down there at the
back. You guard this, and I'll take care of the other end. Savvy?"

"Right!" Lannigan answered grimly. "Go ahead!"

There was the sound of footsteps moving forward, then a vicious bump,
the scraping of some object along the floor, and a muffled curse from
Whitey Mack.

"Use your flashlight!" advised the inspector, in a guarded voice.

"I haven't got one, damn it!", growled Whitey Mack. "It's all right.
I'll get along."

Again the steps, but more warily now, as though the man were cautiously
feeling ahead of him for possible obstacles. Jimmie Dale for a moment
held his breath. He could have reached out and touched the man as the
other passed. Whitey Mack went on until he had taken up a position
against the rear wall. Jimmie Dale heard him as he brushed against it.

Then silence fell. He was between them now. Stretched full length on the
floor, Jimmie Dale raised the lower portion of the canvas away from
in front of his face. He could see nothing; the place was in Stygian
blackness; but it had been close and stifling, and, at least, it gave
him more air.

The minutes dragged by--each more interminable than the one that
had gone before. Not a movement, not a sound, and then, through the
stillness, very faint at first, came the regular, repressed breathing
of Whitey Mack, who was much the nearer of the two men. And, once
noticeable, almost imperceptible as it was it seemed to pervade the room
and fill it with a strange, ominous resonance that rose and fell until
the blackness palpitated with it.

Slowly, very slowly, Jimmie Dale's hand crept into his pocket--and crept
out again with his automatic. He lay motionless once more. Time in any
concrete sense ceased to exist. Fancied