growing more frantic with every instant, rose and began to hunt around the room in an agitated, aimless fashion.
Jason's distress was very real—he was almost beside himself now with fear and anxiety. A whimsical, affectionate smile played over Jimmie Dale's lips at the old man's antics—and changed suddenly into one of consternation. Jason was making directly now for the curtain behind which he stood! Perhaps, though, he would pass it by, and—Jason's hand reached out and grasped the portière.
"Jason!" said Jimmie Dale sharply.
The old man staggered back as though he had been struck, tried to speak, choked, and gazed at the curtain with distended eyes.
"Is—is that you, sir—Master Jim—behind the curtain there?" he finally blurted out. "I—sir—you gave me a start—and the letter, Master Jim"
"Don't lose your head, Jason," said Jimmie Dale coolly, "I've got the letter. Now do as I bid you."
"Yes—Master Jim," faltered the old man.
"Pull down the window shades and draw the portières together," directed Jimmie Dale.
Jason, still overwrought and excited, obeyed a little awkwardly.
"Now the lights, Jason," instructed Jimmie Dale. "Turn them off, and go and sit down in that chair at the desk."
Again Jason obeyed, stumbling in the darkness as he returned from the electric-light switch at the farther end of the room. He sat down in the chair.
Larry the Bat stepped out from behind the curtain.
"I came for that letter, Jason," he explained quietly. "I am going out again now. I may be back to-morrow; I may not be back for a week. You will say nothing, not a word, of my having been here to-night. Do you understand, Jason?"
"Yes, sir," said Jason; then hesitantly: "Would you mind saying, sir, when you came in?"
"It's of no consequence, Jason—is it?"
"No, sir," said Jason.
