As the minutes passed, many of them, Jimmie Dale sat
there motionless, staring before him at the desk that
was faintly outlined in the unlighted room. Then some-
where in the house a clock struck the hour. Five o'clock!
He raised his head. Yes! It could be done! There was a
way! He had the germ of it now. And now the plan be-
gan to grow, to take form and shape in his mind, to dove-
tail, to knit the integral parts into a comprehensive whole.
There was a way -- but he must have assistance. Jason --
yes, assuredly. Benson, his chauffeur -- yes, equally as trust-
worthy as Jason. Bensonwas devoted to him; and moreover
Benson was young, alert, daring, cool. He had had more
than one occasion to test Benson's resourcefulness and
nerve!

Jimmie Dale rose abruptly, went to the rear window, and,
parting the curtains cautiously, stood peering down into the
courtyard. Yes, it was feasible; even a little more than
feasible. The garage fronted the driveway, of course, to
give free entrance and egress to the cars, but where the wall
of the garage and the rear wall of the house overlapped, as
it were, the space between them was not much more than
ten yards; and here the shadows of the two walls, mingling,
lay like a black, impenetrable pathway -- not like that other
shadow he had seen moving at the side of the garage, and
that, if not for the moment discernible, was none the less
surely still lurking there!

Satisfied, Jimmie Dale swung briskly from the window,
and, going now to his bedroom across the hall, undressed
and went to bed -- but not to sleep. There would be time

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