their seeing him; that
was more or less a mechanical detail. But escape--and leave them in
possession of a sort of guarantee or assurance that he was still there!
That would give him the freedom of action that he must have. He smiled
with bitter irony. That solved the problem! That was all there was
to it--just that! It was very simple, exceedingly simple; it was
only--impossible!

The smile left his lips, and once more his hands, clenched fiercely. No;
it was not impossible! It MUST be done--if he was to win through, if
he was even to save himself! It must be done--or FAIL her! It COULD be
done; there was a way--if he could only see it!

CHAPTER VII

THE "HOUR"

As the minutes passed, many of them, Jimmie Dale sat there motionless,
staring before him at the desk that was faintly outlined in the
unlighted room. Then somewhere in the house a clock struck the hour.
Five o'clock! He raised his head. YES! It could be done! There was a
way! He had the germ of it now. And now the plan began to grow, to take
form and shape in his mind, to dovetail, to knit the integral parts into
a comprehensive whole. There was a way--but he must have assistance.
Jason--yes, assuredly. Benson, his chauffeur--yes, equally as
trustworthy as Jason. Benson was devoted to him; and moreover Benson was
young, alert, daring, cool. He had had more than one occasion to test
Benson's resourcefulness and nerve!

Jimmie Dale rose abruptly, went to the rear window, and, parting the
curtains cautiously, stood peering down into the courtyard. Yes, it
was feasible; even a little more than feasible. The garage fronted the
driveway, of course, to give free entrance and egress to the cars, but
where the wall of the garage and the rear wall of the house overlapped,
as it were, the space between them was not much more than ten yards;
and here the shadows of the two walls, mingling, lay like a black,
impenetrable pathway--not like that other shadow he had seen moving at
the side of the garage, and that, if not for the moment discernible, was
none the less surely still lurking there!

Satisfied, Jimmie Dale swung briskly from the window, and, going now
to his bedroom across the hall, undressed and went to bed--but not to
sleep. There would be time enough to sleep, all day, if he wished; now,
there were still the little details to be thought out that, more than
anything else, could make or wreck his plans. A point overdone, the
faintest suggestion of a