One minute at the outside was, perhaps, all he could count upon.

Already he had caught the rattle of the locked door down the hall.

He lit a match and turned on the gas over the bed--it was the most dangerous thing he could do--he knew that well enough, none knew it better--it was offering himself as a fair mark when the others rushed in, as they would in a moment now--but the Skeeter and his gang and this man here must have no misconception of his purpose, his reason for being there, the same as their own, the theft of the stones--and no misconception as to his SUCCESS.
"Y'ain't the police!"-- it came in a choked gasp from the other, as he blinked in the sudden light "Say then--" "Shut up!" ordered Jimmie Dale curtly.

"And mind what I told you about moving!" He leaned over the bed.

Old Luddy, though under the influence of the chloroform, was moving restlessly.