What else would he require?
What act did that letter call upon the Gray Seal to perform in the next few hours?
Jimmie Dale stared thoughtfully into the interior of the safe.
Whatever it was, it must be performed in the role of Larry the Bat, for though he could get into his dressing room now, and become Jimmie Dale again, there were still those watchers outside the Sanctuary--THEY must not become suspicious--and if Larry the Bat disappeared mysteriously, Larry the Bat would be the man that Kline and the secret service of the United States would never cease hunting for, and that would mean that he could never reassume a character that was as necessary for his protection as breath was to life, so long as the Gray Seal worked.

True, he could change now to Jimmie Dale, but he would have to change back again and return to the Sanctuary before morning, as Larry the Bat--and remain there until Kline, beaten, called off his human bloodhounds.

No, a change was not to be thought of.
What, then, would he require--that compact little kit of burglar tools, rolled in its leather jacket, that, unrolled slipped about his body like a close-fitting undervest?
As well to take it anyway.

He removed his coat and vest, took out the leather bundle from the safe, untied the thongs that bound it together, unrolled it, passed it around his body, life belt fashion, secured the thongs over his shoulders, and put on his coat and vest again.

A revolver, a flashlight?
He had both--at the Sanctuary, under the flooring--but there were duplicates here! He slipped them into his pockets.