I guess that'll hold the police when they find the poor old duck hanging from the ceiling, with a bit of cord around his neck, and a chair kicked out from under his feet on the floor.

Ain't you got the brains of a louse to see that ?" "Sure"-- the whisper came dully, in grudging intonation through the panels--the door was locked.

"Sure, but it's de hangin' 'round waitin' to get busy that's gettin' me goat, an'-- " Jimmie Dale straightened up and began to retreat along the corridor.
A merciless rage was upon him now, every fiber of his being seemed to tingle and quiver with it--the damnable, hellish ingenuity of it all seemed to choke and suffocate him.
"Luck!" muttered Jimmie Dale between his clenched teeth.

"Oh, the blessed luck to get that door locked! I've got time now to set the stage for my own get-away before the showdown!" He stole on along the corridor.

Excerpts from her letter were running through his brain: "It would do no good to warn him, Jimmie--the Skeeter and his gang would never let up on him until they got the stones.