“Master Jim, sir! Is that you, sir, Master Jim! It—it came, sir, not ten minutes after you left to-night, and—”
“Jason,” said Jimmie Dale sharply, “what’s the matter with you? What are you talking about? What came?”
“Why—why, sir—I beg your pardon, sir, but I’ve been a bit uneasy ever since, sir. It’s—it’s one of those letters, Master Jim, sir.”
A sudden whiteness came into Jimmie Dale’s face, as he stared into the mouthpiece of the telephone. A “call to arms” from the Tocsin—now—to-night! What was he to do! It was not a trivial thing which that letter would contain—it never had been, and it never would be, and no matter under what circumstances it found him, he—
Jason’s voice faltered over the wire:
“Are you there, sir, Master Jim?”
“Yes,” said Jimmie Dale quietly. “Bring the letter with you, Jason, and come down with Benson. I will wait for you here—in the car outside Marlianne’s. And hurry, Jason—take a taxi down.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jason, his voice trembling a little. “At once, Master Jim.”
Jimmie Dale hung up the receiver, returned to the street, and seated himself in his car. How long would it take them to get here? Half an hour? Well then, for half an hour his hands were tied, and he could do nothing but wait. He glanced around him. It was curious! It was here in this very place that he had once found a letter from her in his car; it was even here that, without knowing it at the moment, he had really seen her for the first time. And now—what did it hold, this letter, this “call to arms” that he sat here waiting for, while out there in that little town a man lay dead on the floor of his room, and around whom, where there had once been the evidence of a coward’s guilt, crowned with the sorriest epitaph that ever man had written, there was now the evidence of a still blacker crime—the crime of murder.
He lighted a cigarette and smoked it through. Could it be that—in her letter! Intuition again? Well, why not—if old Kronische should answer the question as the chances were one in ten that old Kronische might answer it! Yes—why not! It would not be strange. Intuition—because somehow the feeling that it was so grew stronger with each moment that passed—well, once before to-night he had said that intuition had never failed him yet!