Then somewhere in the house a clock struck the hour.
Five o'clock! He raised his head. YES! It could be done! There was a
way! He had the germ of it now. And now the plan began to grow, to take
form and shape in his mind, to dovetail, to knit the integral parts into
a comprehensive whole. There was a way--but he must have assistance.
Jason--yes, assuredly. Benson, his chauffeur--yes, equally as
trustworthy as Jason. Benson was devoted to him; and moreover Benson was
young, alert, daring, cool. He had had more than one occasion to test
Benson's resourcefulness and nerve!
Jimmie Dale rose abruptly, went to the rear window, and, parting the
curtains cautiously, stood peering down into the courtyard. Yes, it
was feasible; even a little more than feasible. The garage fronted the
driveway, of course, to give free entrance and egress to the cars, but
where the wall of the garage and the rear wall of the house overlapped,
as it were, the space between them was not much more than ten yards;
and here the shadows of the two walls, mingling, lay like a black,
impenetrable pathway--not like that other shadow he had seen moving at
the side of the garage, and that, if not for the moment discernible, was
none the less surely still lurking there!
Satisfied, Jimmie Dale swung briskly from the window, and, going now
to his bedroom across the hall, undressed and went to bed--but not to
sleep.
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