opens it yerself, or else"--he paused and produced a small bottle from his pocket--"this is nitro-glycerin', an' we opens it fer you with this.Only if we does the job we does it proper.We ties you up and sets you against the door of the safe before we touches off the 'soup,' an' mabbe if yer a good guesser you can guess the rest."There was a short, raucous guffaw from The Mope.
Stangeist turned a drawn face toward the man, stared at him, and stared in a miserable way at the other two in turn.He licked his lips again--none was in a better position than himself to know that there would be neither scruples nor hesitancy to interfere with carrying out the threat.
"Suppose," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "suppose I open the safe--what then--afterward?""We ain't got the safe open yet," countered Clarie Deane uncompromisingly."An' we ain't got no more time ter fool over it, either.You get a move on before I counts five, or The Mope an' Ike ties you up! One--"Stangeist staggered to his feet, wiped the blood out of his eyes for the second time, and, with lips working, went unsteadily across the room to the safe.
He knelt before it, and began to manipulate the dial; while the others crowded around behind him.The Mope was fingering his revolver again club fashion.Australian Ike's elbow just grazed the portieres, and Jimmie Dale flattened himself against the window, holding his breath--a smile on his lips that was mirthless, deadly, cold.The end was not far off now; and then--WHAT?
Stangeist had the outer door of the safe open now--and now the inner door swung back.He reached in his hand to the pigeonhole, drew out the envelope--and with a sudden, wild cry, reeled to his feet.
"My God!" he screamed out."What's--what's this!"Clarie Deane snatched the envelope from him.
"THE GRAY SEAL!"--the words came with a jerk from his lips.He ripped the envelope open frantically--and like a man stunned gazed at the four blank sheets, while the colour left his face."IT'SGONE!" he cried out hoarsely.
"Gone!" There was a burst of oaths from Australian Ike."Gone!
Den we're nipped--de lot of us!"
The Mope's face was like a maniac's as he whirled on Stangeist.
"Sure!" he croaked."But youse gets yers first, youse--"With a cry, Stangeist, to elude the blow, ducked blindly backward--into the portieres--and with a rip and tear the hangings were wrenched apart.
It came instantaneously--a yell of mingled surprise and fury from the three--the crash and spit of Jimmie Dale's revolver as he fired one shot at the floor to stop their rush--then he flung himself at the window, through it, and dropped sprawling to the ground.
A stream of flame cut the darkness above him, a bullet whistled by his head--another--and another.He was on his feet, quick as a cat, and running close alongside of the wall of the house.He heard a thud behind him, still another, and yet a third--they were dropping through the window after him.Came another shot, an angry hum of the bullet closer than before--then the pound of racing feet.
Jimmie Dale swung around the corner of the house, running at top speed.Something that was like a hot iron suddenly burned and seared along the side of his head just above the ear.He reeled, staggered, recovered himself, and dashed on.It nauseated him, that stinging in his head, and all at once seemed to be draining his strength away.The shouts, the shots, the running feet became like a curious buzzing in his ears.It seemed strange that they should have hit him, that he should be wounded! If he could only reach the low stone wall by the road, he could at least make a fight for his life on the other side!
