before--with a snarl of triumph now as of wolves who at last had pulled
their quarry down. He had not a second to spare--and yet--that man
wounded there on the floor! What of him--guilty of murder, the brains of
this inhuman, monstrous organisation, the one to whom, more even than to
that dead man, the Tocsin owed the horror and the misery and the grief
and despair that had come into her life! What of him? What of the Crime
Club here? What of this nest of vipers? Were they to escape? Were they
to--

With a sudden, low exclamation, Jimmie Dale jumped for the table, and,
snatching up the telephone, rattled the hook violently.

"Give me"--his voice came in well-simulated gasps, each like a man
fighting for every word--"give me--police--headquarters! Quick! QUICK!
I've--been--shot!"

The wounded man on the floor raised himself on his elbow.

"What are you doing?" he demanded in a startled way. "Are you mad! Thank
your stars you were lucky enough to get out of this alive--and get out
now, while you have the chance!"

Jimmie Dale pressed his hand firmly over the mouthpiece of the
telephone.

"I'll go," he said, with a cold smile, "when I've settled with you--for
the murder of Henry LaSalle."

"That man!" ejaculated the man scornfully, pointing to the form on the
floor. "So that's your game! Going to try and cover your tracks! Why,
you fool, I LIVE here! Do you think the police would imagine for an
instant that I killed him?"

"I said--HENRY LASALLE," said Jimmie Dale evenly.

The man came farther up on his elbow, a sudden look of fear in his face.

"What--what do you mean?" he cried hoarsely.

But Jimmie Dale was talking again into the telephone--gasping, choking
out his words as before:

"Police headquarters? I'm Henry LaSalle. Fifth Avenue. I--I've been
shot. Take down this statement. I'll--I'll be dead before you get
here--I'm not the real Henry LaSalle at all. We murdered Henry
LaSalle--in Australia, and murdered Peter LaSalle here. We--we tried
to kill the daughter, but she ran away. This house has been our
headquarters for the last five years. The man who shot me to-night is
the leader of the gang. We quarrelled over the division of a haul.
He's here on the floor now, wounded. Get them all, get them all, damn
them!--do you hear?--get them all! They're out of the house now, but
lay a trap for them. They always come in through the garage on the side
street. Oh, God, I'm done for! Break down the west walls o