seeking a cue. A plan of the house--yes or no? And a decision
on the instant!

"Sure!" said Larry the Bat brightly. "Dat's wot I was t'inkin' youse
were after all de time. Say, youse are all right, Slimmy! Youse are de
kind to work wid! Go on, Mag, draw de dope fer Slimmy. Dat's better
dan tryin' to put one over on de swell guy. Dis'll make him squeal fer
fair!"

The Magpie produced a pencil and a piece of paper from his pocket, and
laid them on the table in front of the Tocsin.

"Dere youse are," he announced. "Help yerself, an' go to it, Mag!"

The Tocsin, evidently not quite certain of her part, wet the pencil
doubtfully on the end of her tongue.

"I ain't never drawed plans," she said anxiously. "Mabbe"--she glanced
at Jimmie Dale--"mabbe I dunno how to do it RIGHT."

"Aw, go ahead!" nodded Larry the Bat. "Youse can do it right, Mag. Youse
don't have to make no oil paintin'! All de Magpie wants is de doors an'
windows, eh, Slimmy?"

"Sure," agreed the Magpie encouragingly. "Dat's all, Mag. Just mark
de rooms out on de first floor, an' de basement. Youse can explain wot
youse 're doin' as youse goes along. I'll get youse."

The Tocsin cackled maliciously in assent; and then, while the Magpie got
up from his chair and stood peering over her shoulder, she began to draw
labouriously, her brows knitted, the pencil hooked awkwardly between
cramped-up forefinger and thumb.

Larry the Bat, slouched forward over the table, his chin in his hands,
appeared to watch the proceedings with mild interest--but his eyes, like
a hawk's, were following every line on the paper, transferring them to
his brain, photographing every detail of the plan in his mind. And as
he watched, there seemed something that was near to the acme of all that
was ironical in the Magpie standing there, his sharp, little, black eyes
drinking in greedily the Tocsin's work, in the Tocsin herself aiding and
abetting in the projected theft--OF HER OWN MONEY! How far would he let
the Magpie go? He did not know. Perhaps--who could tell!--all the way.
Between now and then there lay that package! If it were at Makoff's, at
Spider Jack's, if he could find it, get it--the Magpie as a temporary
custodian of the estate's money would at least preclude its loss by
flight if the Crime Club took alarm too quickly. Larry the Bat's eyes,
under half-closed lids, rested musingly on the Magpie's face. The Magpie
would not get very far away with it! On the other hand, if