The man continued to denude himself of his effects, but with increasing
savagery and reluctance. There was silence in the room--and then
suddenly, so faint as to be almost inaudible, there was a soft _pat_
upon the floor. Jimmie Dale did not turn his head.

"I think you dropped something, Jake," he observed pleasantly. "Now take
your foot off it, and put it on the table!"

A miserable smile twisting his lips, old Jake stooped, picked up a roll
of bills, and, mumbling and crooning to himself, laid it on the table.
Jimmie Dale immediately transferred it to his pocket.

"Yes," he said, "I certainly seem to be in luck tonight! That all you
got, Thorold?" He reached forward, and possessed himself of a
well-filled wallet that Thorold had added to the heterogeneous
collection in front of him.

Thorold's face was black with fury.

"There's the watch, you cheap poke-getter!" he choked. "Don't forget to
frisk that while you're at it!"

Jimmie Dale examined the collection with a sort of imperturbable
appraisement.

"No," he said judicially. "You can keep your watch, Thorold; I haven't
got the same lay as our friend Jake here, and that sort of thing is too
hard to get rid of to make it worth while. I'll take these, and that's
all." He whipped the pile of letters and papers into his pocket. "You
see, with a man of your profession, there is always the chance of there