No; that would not do. It would be well enough for this young
Burton, perhaps, but not for old Isaac, the East Side fence--for Isaac
knew him in the character of Larry the Bat. His quick, keen brain,
weaving, eliminating, devising, scheming, discarded that idea. The final
coup of the night, as yet but sensed in an indefinite, unshaped way, if
enacted in the person of Larry the Bat would therefore stamp Larry the
Bat and the Gray Seal as one--a contretemps but little less fatal, in
view of old Issac, than to bracket the Gray Seal and Jimmie Dale! Larry
the Bat was not a character to be assumed with impunity, nor one to
jeopardize--it was a bulwark of safety, at it were, to which more than
once he owed escape from capture and discovery.
He lifted his shoulders with a sudden jerk of decision as the car
swerved to the left and headed for the East Side. There was only
one alternative then--the black silk mask that folded into such tiny
compass, and that, together with an automatic and the curious, thin
metal case that looked so like a cigarette case, was always in his
pocket for an emergency!
The car turned again, and, approaching its destination, Jimmie Dale
slowed down the speed perceptibly. It was a strange case, not a pleasant
one--and the raw edges where they showed were ugly in their nakedness.
Old Isaac Pelina, young Burton, and Maddon--K.
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