Anything else--to forestall and provide for any possible contingency?
He hesitated again for a moment, thinking, then slowly closed the inner door of the safe, locked it, swung the outer door shut--and, in the act of twirling the knobs, sprang suddenly to his feet.

Sharp, shrill in the stillness of the room, the telephone bell on the desk rang out clamourously.
Jimmie Dale's face set hard, as he leaped out from behind the curtain--had Jason heard it! It rang again before he could reach the desk--was ringing as he snatched the receiver from the hook.
"Yes, yes!" he called, in a low, guarded, hasty way, into the mouthpiece.

"Hello! What is it ?" And then one hand, resting on the desk, closed around the edge, and tightened until the skin over the knuckles grew ivory white.

It was--SHE! She! It was HER voice--he had only heard it once in all his life--that night, two nights before, in a silvery laugh from the limousine as it had sped away from him down the road--but he knew! It thrilled him now with a mad rhapsody, robbing him for the moment of every thought save that she was living, real, existent--that it was HER voice.

"It's you--YOU!" he said hoarsely.
"Oh, Jimmie--you at last!"-- it came in a little gasping cry of relief.
"The letter--" "Yes, I've got it--it's all right--it's all right"-- the words would not seem to come fast enough in his desperate haste.