"Still there!
What do you mean?"
"I mean if they, too, have not discovered that he was at Makoff's--if
they have not got there first!" he said grimly. "There seems to be no
limit to their cleverness, or their power. They penetrated his disguise
as a chauffeur, and who knows what more they have learned since last
night? We are fighting them in the dark, and--WHAT'S THAT!" he whispered
tensely, suddenly--and leaning forward like a flash, as he whipped his
automatic from his pocket, he blew out the lamp.
The room was in darkness. They stood there rigid, silent, listening. Her
hand found and caught his arm.
And then it came again--a low sound, the sound of a stealthy footstep
just outside the window that faced on the storage yard.
CHAPTER XI
THE MAGPIE
A minute passed--another. The automatic at Jimmie Dale's hip, the muzzle
just peeping over the table top, held a steady bead on the window. Came
the footstep again--and then suddenly, a series of low, quick tappings
upon the windowpane. The Tocsin's hand slipped away from his arm.
Jimmie Dale's set face relaxed as he read the underground Morse, and he
replaced his revolver slowly in his pocket.
"The Magpie!" said Jimmie Dale, in an undertone. "What's he want?"
"I don't know," she answered, in a whisper. "He never came here before.
There's a back way out, Jimmie, if you--"
"No," he said quickly.
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