He edged away from the window, and, as cautiously as he had come, retraced his steps across the cellar and up the stairs--and then, the possibility of being heard from without gone, he broke into a run.There was no need to wonder long what those wires meant.They could mean only one of two things--and the Crime Club would have little concern in his electric light! THEY HAD TAPPED HISTELEPHONE.The mains, he knew, ran into the cellar from the underground service in the street.He was racing like a madman now.
How long ago, how many hours ago, had they done that! Great Scott, SHE was to have telephoned! Had she done so? Was the game, all, everything, she herself, at their mercy already? If she had telephoned, Jason would have left a message on his desk--he would look there first--afterward he would waken Jason.
He gained the door of his den on the first landing, a room that ran the entire length of one side of the house from front to rear, burst in, switched on the light---and stood stock-still in amazement.
"Jason!" he cried out.
The old butler, fully dressed, rubbing and blinking his eyes at the light, and with a startled cry, rose up from the depths of a lounging chair.
"Jason!" exclaimed Jimmie Dale again.
"I beg pardon, sir, Master Jim," stammered the man."I--I must have fallen asleep, sir.""Jason, what are you doing here?" Jimmie Dale demanded sharply.
"Well, sir," said Jason, still fumbling for his words, "it--it was the telephone, sir.""The--TELEPHONE!"
"Yes, sir.A woman, begging your pardon, Master Jim, a lady, sir, has been telephoning every hour or so, and she--""YES!" Jimmie Dale had jumped across the room and had caught the other fiercely by the shoulder."Yes--yes! What did she say?
QUICK, man!"
"Good Lord, Master Jim!" faltered Jason."I--she--""Jason," said Jimmie Dale, suddenly as cold as ice, "what did she say? Think, man! Every word!""She didn't say anything, Master Jim.Nothing at all, sir--except to keep asking each time if she could speak to you.""Nothing else, Jason?"
"No, sir."
"You are SURE?"
"I'm sure, Master Jim.Not another thing but that, sir, just as I've told you.""Thank God!" said Jimmie Dale, in a low voice.
"Yes, sir," said Jason mechanically.
"How long ago was it since she telephoned last?" asked Jimmie Dale quickly.
"Well, sir, I couldn't rightly say.You see, as I said, Master Jim, I must have gone to sleep, but--"They were staring tensely into each other's face.The telephone on the desk was ringing vibrantly, clamourously, through the stillness of the room.
Jason, white, frightened, bewildered, touched his lips with the tip of his tongue.
"That'll be her again, sir," he said hoarsely.
"Wait!" said Jimmie Dale tersely.
He was trying to think, to think faster than he had ever thought before.He could not tell Jason to say that he had not yet come in--THEY knew he was in, it would be but showing his hand to that "some one" who would be listening now on the wire.He dared not speak to her, or, above all, allow her to expose herself by a single inadvertent word.He dared not speak to her--and she was here now, calling him! He could not speak to her--and it was life and death almost that she should know what had happened; life and death almost for both of them that he should know all and everything she could tell him.True, it would take but a minute to run to the cellar and cut those wires, while Jason held her on the pretence of calling him, Jimmie Dale, to the 'phone; only a minute to cut those wires--and in so doing advertise to these fiends the fact that he had discovered their trick; admit, as though in so many words, that their suspicions of him were justified; lay himself open to some new move that he could not hope to foresee; and, paramount to all else, rob her and himself of this master trump the Crime Club had placed in his hands, by means of which there was a chance that he could hoist them with their own petard!
The telephone rang again--imperatively, persistently.
"Listen, Jason." Jimmie Dale was speaking rapidly, earnestly."Say that I've come in and have gone to bed--in a vile humour.That you told me a lady had been calling, but that I said if she called again I wasn't to be disturbed if it was the Queen of Sheba herself--that I wouldn't answer any 'phone to-night for anybody.Do you understand? No argument with her--just that.Now, answer!"Jason lifted the receiver from the hook.
"Yes--hello!" he said."Yes, ma'am, Mr.Dale has come in, but he has retired....Yes, I told him; but, begging your pardon, ma'am, he was in what I might say was a bit of a temper, and said he wasn't to be disturbed by any one."Jimmie Dale snatched the receiver from Jason, and put it to his own ear.
"Kindly tell Mr.Dale that unless he comes to the 'phone now," a feminine voice, her voice, in well-simulated indignation, was saying, "it will be a very long day before I shall trouble myself to--"Jimmie Dale clapped his hand firmly over the mouthpiece of the instrument.Thank God for that clever brain of hers! She understood!
"Repeat what you said before, Jason," he instructed hurriedly.
"Then say 'Good-night.'"
He removed his hand from the mouthpiece.
"It's quite useless, ma'am," said Jason apologetically."In the rare temper he was in, he wouldn't come, to use his own words, ma'am, not for the Queen of Sheba herself, ma'am.Good-night, ma'am."Jimmie Dale hung the receiver back on the hook--and with his hand flirted away a bead of moisture that had sprung to his forehead.
"Good Lord, Master Jim, what's wrong, sir? What's happened, sir?
And--and those clothes, Master Jim, sir! They aren't the ones you went out in, sir--they aren't yours at all, sir!" Jason ventured anxiously.
"Jason," said Jimmie Dale, "switch off the light, and go to the front window and look out.Keep well behind the curtains.Don't show yourself.Tell me if you see anything.""Yes, sir," said Jason obediently.
The light went out.Jimmie Dale moved to the rear of the room--to the window overlooking the garage and yard.
