The Adventures of Jimmie Dale [44]
that plate won't save me. The minute a single note printed from it shows up, they'll know back there in Washington that the plate was stolen, and--" "No; you're safe enough there," the other interposed heavily. "Knowing what was up, you don't think I'd give the gang a chance to get them into circulation, do you? I got them all when I got the plate. And"--he smiled a little anxiously--"I'll bring them here to be destroyed with the plate. It would finish me now, as well as you, if one of them ever showed up. Say," he said suddenly, with a catch in his breath, "I--I don't think I know what I'm doing." Mrs. Matthews reached out her hands to him. "What can I say to you!" she said brokenly, "What--" Jimmie Dale drew back along the wall. A little way from the door he quickened his pace, still moving, however, with extreme caution. They were still talking behind him as he turned from the corridor into the passageway leading to the store, and from there into the store itself. And then suddenly, in spite of caution, his foot slipped on the bare floor. It was not much--just enough to cause his other foot, poised tentatively in air, to come heavily down, and a loud and complaining creak echoed from the floor. Jimmie Dale's jaws snapped like a steel trap. From down the corridor came a sudden, excited exclamation in the little old lady's voice, and then her steps sounded running toward the store. In the fraction of a second Jimmie Dale was at the front door. "Clumsy, blundering fool!" he whispered fiercely to himself as he turned the key, opened the door noiselessly until it was just ajar, and turned the key in the lock again, leaving the bolt protruding out. One step backward, and he was rapping on the counter with his knuckles. "Isn't anybody here?" he called out loudly. "Isn't any-- oh!"--as Mrs. Matthews appeared in the back doorway. "A package of cigarettes, please." She stared at him, a little frightened, her eyes red and swollen with recent crying. "How--how did you get in here?" she asked tremendously. "I beg your pardon?" inquired Jimmie Dale, in polite surprise. "I--I locked the door--I'm sure I did," she said, more to herself than to Jimmie Dale, and hurried across the floor to the door as she spoke. Jimmie Dale, still politely curious, turned to watch her. For a moment bewilderment and a puzzled look were in her face--and then a sort of surprised relief. "I must have turned the key in the lock without shutting the door tight," she explained, "for I knew I turned the key." Jimmie Dale bent forward to examine the lock--and nodded. "Yes," he agreed, with a smile. "I should say so." Then, gravely courteous: "I'm sorry to have intruded." "It is nothing," she answered; and, evidently anxious to be rid of him, moved quickly around behind the counter. "What kind of cigarettes do you want?" "Egyptians--any kind," said Jimmie Dale, laying a bill on the counter. He pocketed the cigarettes and his change, and turned to the door. "Good-evening," he said pleasantly--and went out. Jimmie Dale smiled a little curiously, a little tolerantly. As he started along the street, he heard the door of the little shop close with a sort of supercareful bang, the key turned, and the latch rattle to try the door--the little old lady was bent on making no mistake a second time! And then the smile left Jimmie Dale's lips, his face grew strained and serious, and he broke into a run down the block to Sixth Avenue. Here he paused for an instant--there was the elevated, the surface cars--which would be the quicker? He looked up the avenue. There was no train coming; the nearest surface car was blocks away. He bit his lips in vexation--and then with a jump he was across the street and hailing a passing taxicab that his eyes had just lighted on. "Got a fare?" called Jimmie Dale. "No, sir," answered the chauffeur, bumping his car to an abrupt halt. "Good!" Jimmie Dale ran alongside, and yanked the door open. "Do you know where the Palace Saloon on the Bowery is?" "Yes, sir," replied the man. Jimmie Dale held a ten-dollar bank note up before