He was
halfway to the window. Had it been all fancy, was he to--And then Jimmie
Dale stood motionless. SOME ONE HAD CLOSED THE LIBRARY DOOR SOFTLY!
Stillness again! A sort of deadly calm upon him, Jimmie Dale felt
out behind his back for the big library table that he had been
circuiting--if the window were wide open it might be done, but to jump
for it and stand silhouetted there during the pause necessary to fling
the window up was little less than suicidal. He edged back noiselessly
until his fingers touched the table; then, lowering himself to his
knees, he backed in underneath it, and lay flat upon the floor. It was
not much protection, but it had one advantage: if they switched on
the lights it would show an EMPTY room for the first instant, and that
instant meant--the first shot!
Where were they now? By the library door? How many of them were there?
Well, it was their move! Two could play at cat and mouse until--until
DAYLIGHT! That wasn't very far off, now, and when that came he might
still have the first shot, but after that--he turned his head quickly
toward the window. There was a faint scratching noise as of finger nails
gripping the sill; then the window, very slowly, almost silently, was
pushed steadily upward, and a dark form loomed up outside; and then,
crawling through, a man dropped, as though his feet were padded like a
cat's on the floor inside the room.
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