He clamped the flashlight between his knees, leaving his hands free, and
from the leather girdle drew the old-time metal case, thin, like a
cigarette case, and from the case, with a pair of little tweezers that
precluded the possibility of telltale finger prints, lifted out a small,
diamond-shaped, gray-coloured paper seal, adhesive on one side, which he
moistened now with his tongue--and, stooping quickly, attached it to the
dead man's sleeve.

There was a sharp, startled cry from Birdie Lee.

"_The Gray Seal_! You're--you're Larry the Bat! They passed the word
around in Sing Sing that you were dead, and--"

"And it will be the Gray Seal who is wanted for this--not you," said
Jimmie Dale quietly. Then, almost sharply: "Now make your get-away,
Birdie. Hurry! You and I part here. And the greater distance you put
between yourself and this place to-night the better."

But the man seemed as though robbed of the power of movement--and then
his lips quivered, and his eyes filled.

"But you," he faltered, "you--you're doing this for me, and I--I--"

Jimmie Dale caught the other's arm in a kindly grip.

"Good-night, Birdie," he said significantly. "I'm the last man now that
you could afford to be seen with. You understand that. And I guess you
can understand that I've reasons for not wanting to be seen myself.
You've got your chance; give me mine to get away--alone." He pushed the
man abruptly toward the door.