ed fists. What was he to do? It was not only
the Crime Club, it was not only the Tocsin and her peril--there was the
underworld snapping and snarling at his heels, there was the police,
dogged and sullen, ever on the trail of the Gray Seal! His life, even
before this, in his fight against the underworld and the police, had
depended upon his freedom of action--and now, at one and the same time,
that freedom was cut away from beneath his feet, as it were, and a third
foe, equally as deadly as the others, was added to the list!

For months, to preserve and sustain the character of Larry the Bat, he
had been forced to assume the role almost daily; for, in that sordid
empire below the dead line, whose one common bond and aim was the
Gray Seal's death, where suspicion, one of the other, was rampant and
extravagant, where each might be the one against whom all swore their
vengeance, Larry the Bat could not mysteriously disappear from his
accustomed haunts without inviting suspicion in an active and practical
form--an inquisitorial visit to his squalid lodgings, the Sanctuary--and
the end of Larry the Bat!

If, as he had thought only a few hours before, he was through forever
with his dual life, that would not have mattered, the underworld would
have been welcome to make what it chose of it--but now the preservation
of the character of Larry the Bat was more vital and necessary to him
than it had ever been before. It was a means of defense and offense
against these men who lurked now outside his doors. It was the sole
means now of communication with her; for, warned both by Jason's
words, and what must be an obvious fact to her, that their plans had
miscarried, that it was dangerous to communicate with him as Jimmie
Dale, she would expect him, count on him to make that move. There
would be no longer either reason or attempt on her part to maintain the
mystery with which she had heretofore surrounded herself, the crisis
had come, she would be watching, waiting, hoping, seeking for him
more anxiously and with far more at stake than he had ever sought for
her--until now!

He got up impulsively from his chair, and, in the blackness, began to
pace the room. The next move was clear, pitifully clear; it had been
clear from the first, it had been clear even in that ride in the car--it
was so clear that it seemed veritably to mock him as he prodded his
brains for some means of putting it into execution. He must get to the
Sanctuary,