now, just as he was regaining the old-time confidence that Larry the Bat
had enjoyed, just as he was reaching that point where the whispered
secrets of the underworld once more reached his ears and there was a
promise of success if, indeed, she were still alive, had come this thing
to-night that spelt ruin to his hopes and ultimate disaster to himself.

If she were still alive! The thought came flashing back; and with a low,
involuntary moan, mingling anguish of mind with a bitter, merciless
fury, he turned restlessly upon the cot. If she were still alive! No
sign, no word had come from her; he had found no clue, no trace of her
as yet through the channels of the underworld; his surveillance of the
Magpie, whose friendship he had begun to cultivate, had, so far, proved
fruitless.

It came upon him now again, the fear, the dread, which he had known so
often in the past few months, that seemed to try to undermine his
resolution to go forward, that whispered speciously that it was
useless--that she was dead. And misery came. And he lay there staring
unseeingly into the moonrays as they streamed in through the top-light.

Time passed. Then a smile played over Jimmie Dale's lips, half grim,
half wistful; and the strong, square jaw was suddenly out-flung. If she
was alive, he would find her; if she was dead--his clenched hand lifted
above his head as though to register a vow--the man or men, her murderer
or murderers, whether to-morrow or in the years to come, would know a
day of reckoning when they should pay the debt!

But that was for the future. To-night there was this vital, imminent
danger that he had to face, this decision to make whose pros and cons
seemed each to hold an equal measure of dismay. What was he to do?