It was strange! Had she, after all, dropped the glove there intentionally; had she at last let down the barriers just a little between them, and given him this little intimate sign that she-- And then Jimmie Dale laughed abruptly, self-mockingly.

He was only trying to deceive himself, to argue himself into believing what, with heart and soul, he wanted to believe.

It was not like her--and neither was it so! His eyes had fixed on the seat beside the wheel.

He had not used the lap rug all that day, he couldn't use a rug and drive, he had left it folded and hanging on the rack in the tonneau--it was now neatly folded and reposing on the front seat! "Yes," said Jimmie Dale, a sort of self-pity in his tones, "I might have known." He lifted the rug.

Beneath it on the leather seat lay a white envelope.
Her letter! The letter that never came save with the plan of some grim, desperate work outlined ahead--the call to arms for the Gray Seal.
SONNEZ LE TOCSIN! Ring the Tocsin! Sound the alarm! The Tocsin! The words were running through his brain.