"
Burton reached out suddenly and clutched Jimmie Dale's arm.
"Then I'm safe!" He mumbled the words, but there was dawning hope,
relief in his white face. "Safe! I'm safe--if you'll only give me back
those stones. Give them back to me, for God's sake give them back to me!
You don't know--you don't understand. I stole them because--because he
made me--because I--it was the only chance I had. Oh, my God, you don't
know what the last three days have been! Give them back to me, won't
you--won't you? You--you don't know!"
"Don't lose your nerve!" said Jimmie Dale sharply. "Sit down!" He pushed
the other into the chair. "There's no one will disturb us here for some
time at least. What is it that I don't know? That three nights ago
you were in a gambling hell, Sagosto's, to be exact, one of the most
disreputable in New York--and you went there on the invitation of a
stray acquaintance, a man named Perley--shall I describe him for you? A
short, slim-built man, black eyes, red hair, beard, and--"
"YOU know that!" The misery, the hopelessness was back in Burton's face
again--and suddenly he bent over the table and buried his head in his
outflung arms.
There was silence for a moment. Tight-lipped, Jimmie Dale's eyes
travelled from Burton's shaking shoulders to the motionless form on the
floor. Then he spoke again:
"You're a bit of a rounder, Burton, but I think you've had a lesson that
will last you all your life.
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