"It's a lie! A lie! A lie!" the man shrieked. "I never seen him in me
life--blast you!--curse you!--d'ye hear!"

Inspector Clayton caught Jimmie Dale and the Runt by the collars.

"There's nothing to interest you around here!" he snapped maliciously.
"Go on, now--beat it!" And he pushed them toward the door.

They had heard the disturbance in the dance hall now and the occupants
were swarming to the sidewalk. A patrol wagon came around the corner. In
the crowd Jimmie Dale slipped away from the Runt.

Was he wrong, after all? A fierce passion seized him. It was Stace Morse
who had murdered Metzer, the Runt had said. In Jimmie Dale's brain the
words began to reiterate themselves in a singsong fashion: "It was Stace
Morse. It was Stace Morse." Then his lips drew tight together. WAS it
Stace Morse? He would have given a good deal for a chance to talk to the
man--even for a minute. But there was no possibility of that now. Later,
to-morrow perhaps, if he was wrong, after all!

Jimmie Dale returned to the Sanctuary, removed from his person all
evidences of Larry the Bat--and from the Sanctuary went home to
Riverside Drive.

In his den there, in the morning after breakfast, Jason, the butler,
brought him the papers. Three-inch headlines in red ink screamed,
exulted, and shrieked out the news that the Gray Seal, in the person of
Stace Morse, fence, yeggman and murderer, had been captured. The public,
if it had held any private admiration for the one-time mysterious crook