“I am going now, Lannigan,” he observed quietly. “I require, say, fifteen minutes in which to effect my escape. It is, of course, obvious that an alarm raised by you might prove extremely awkward, but a piece of canvas from that bench there, together with a bit of string, would make a most effective gag. I prefer, however, not to submit you to that indignity. Instead, I offer you the alternative of giving me your word to remain quietly where you are for—fifteen minutes.”
Lannigan hesitated.
Jimmie Dale smiled.
“I agree,” said Lannigan shortly.
Jimmie Dale stepped back. The electric-light switch clicked. The place was in darkness. There was a moment, two, of utter stillness; then softly, from the front end of the shop, a whisper:
“If I were you, Lannigan, I'd take that gun from Whitey's pocket before he comes round and beats you to it.”
And the door had closed silently behind Jimmie Dale.