ure that had sprung to his forehead.

"Good Lord, Master Jim, what's wrong, sir? What's happened, sir?
And--and those clothes, Master Jim, sir! They aren't the ones you went
out in, sir--they aren't yours at all, sir!" Jason ventured anxiously.

"Jason," said Jimmie Dale, "switch off the light, and go to the front
window and look out. Keep well behind the curtains. Don't show yourself.
Tell me if you see anything."

"Yes, sir," said Jason obediently.

The light went out. Jimmie Dale moved to the rear of the room--to the
window overlooking the garage and yard.

"I don't see anything, sir," Jason called.

"Watch!" Jimmie Dale answered.

A minute passed--two--three. Jimmie Dale was staring down into the black
of the yard. She understood! She knew, of course, before she 'phoned
that something had gone wrong to-night. She knew that only peril of the
gravest moment would have kept him from the 'phone--and her. She knew
now, as a logical conclusion, that it was dangerous to attempt to
communicate with him at his home. Those wires! Where did they lead to?
Not far away--that would be almost a mechanical impossibility. Was it
into the Crime Club itself--near at hand? Or the basement, say, of that
apartment house across the driveway? Or--where?

And then Jimmie Dale spoke again:

"Do you see anything, Jason?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Jason answered hesitantly. "I thought I saw a man
move behind a tree out there across the road a minute ago, sir. Yes,
sir--there he is again!"

There was a thin, mirthless smile on Jimmie Dale's lips.

Below, in the shadow of the garage, a dark form, like a deeper shadow,
stirred--and was still again.

"What time is it, Jason?" Jimmie Dale asked presently.

"It'll be about half-past four, sir."

"Go to bed, Jason."

"Yes, sir; but"--Jason's voice, low, troubled, came through the darkness
from the upper end of the room--"Master Jim, sir, I--"

"Go to bed, Jason--and not a word of this."

"Yes, sir. Good-night, Master Jim."

"Good-night, Jason."

Jimmie Dale groped his way to the big lounging chair in which he had
found Jason asleep, and flung himself into it. They had struck quickly,
these ingenious, dress-suited murderers of the Crime Club! The house
was already watched, would be watched now untiringly, unceasingly; not a
movement of his henceforth but would be under their eyes!

His hands, resting on the arms of the chair, closed slowly until they
became tight-clenched, knott