Where was she? Even WHO was she?
And this was the hour in which he was to have known!
"May I look at it?" he requested calmly.
The other nodded, but his eyes never left Jimmie Dale.
"It will give you an extra moment or so to frame your answer," he said
sarcastically.
Jimmie Dale ignored the thrust, picked up the ring, examined it
deliberately, and set it back again on the table.
"Since I do not know who owns it," he said, "I cannot answer your
question."
"No! Well, then, there is still another matter--a little package that
was in the taxicab with you. Where is that?"
"See here!" said Jimmie Dale irritably. "This has gone far enough! I
have seen no package, large or small, or of any description whatever.
You are evidently mistaking me for some one else. You have only to
telephone to the St. James Club." He reached toward his pocket for his
cardcase. "My name is--"
"Dale," supplied the other curtly. "Don't bother about the card, Mr.
Dale. We have already taken the liberty of searching you." He rose
abruptly from his chair. "I am afraid you do not quite realise your
position, Mr. Dale," he said, with an ominous smile. "Let me make
it clear. I do not wish to be theatrical about this, but we do not
temporise here. You will either answer both of those questions to my
satisfaction, OR YOU WILL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE ALIVE.
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