We'd--we'd better get out of here quick--they'll get us if--" Jimmie Dale's hand fell with a tight grip on Burton's shoulder.
"There won't be any more shots fired--pull yourself together!" Burton stared at him in a demented way.
"What's--what's it mean ?" he stammered.
"It means that I didn't put two and two together," said Jimmie Dale a little bitterly.

"It means that there's a dozen crooks been dancing old Isaac's tune for a long time--and that some of them have got him at last." Burton reached out suddenly and clutched Jimmie Dale's arm.
"Then I'm safe!" He mumbled the words, but there was dawning hope, relief in his white face.

"Safe! I'm safe--if you'll only give me back those stones.

Give them back to me, for God's sake give them back to me! You don't know--you don't understand.

I stole them because--because he made me--because I--it was the only chance I had.