The picklock was at work again—working silently—working swiftly. And now, in its place, his automatic was in his hand.
He crouched a little—and with a spring, flinging wide the door, was in the room. There was a smothered cry, an oath, the crash of an overturned chair, as two men, from a table heaped with little piles of crisp, new banknotes, sprang wildly to their feet: And Jimmie Dale’s lips twisted in a smile not good to see. Standing there before him were Curley and Haines.
“Keep your seats, gentlemen—please!” said Jimmie Dale, with grim irony. “I shall only stay a moment. It is Mr. Curley and Mr. Haines, I believe—in their private office! Permit me!”—he reached out with his left hand, and closed the door. “Ah, I see there is a good serviceable bolt on it. I have your permission?”—he slipped the bolt into place. “As I said, I shall only stay a moment; but it would be unfortunate, most unfortunate, if we were by any chance interrupted—prematurely!”
Haines, ashen white, was gripping at the table edge. Curley, a deadly glitter in his wicked little eyes, moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.
“How’d you get here, and what the hell d’you want?” he burst out fiercely.
“As to the first question, I haven’t time to answer it,” said Jimmie Dale evenly. “What I want is the sealed envelope stolen from Henry Grenville’s safe—and I’m in a hurry, Mr. Curley.”
“You’re a fool!” said Curley, with a sneer. “It’s—”
“Yes, I know,” said Jimmie Dale, with ominous patience, “it’s counterfeit, you miserable pair of curs! Counterfeit like the rest of that stuff there on the table! Nice place you’ve got here—everything, I see—press, plates, engraver’s tools—nothing missing but the rest of the gang! Perhaps, though, they can be found! Now then, that envelope—quick!” Jimmie Dale’s automatic swung forward significantly.
“It’s in the drawer of the table,” snarled Curley. “Curse you, who—”
“Thank you!” Jimmie Dale’s lips were a thin line. “Now, you two, stand out there in the middle of the floor—and if either of you make a move other than you are told to make, I’ll drop you as I would drop a mad dog!” He jerked the two chairs out from the table, and, still covering Curley and Haines, placed the chairs back to back. “Sit down there, stretch out your arms full length on either side, the palms of your hands against each other’s!” he ordered curtly; and, as they obeyed—Haines, cowed, all pretence at nerve gone, Curley cursing in abandon—he slipped the handcuffs over their wrists on one side, and, taking the piece of cord from his pocket that he had intended for the Rat’s ankles, he deftly noosed their wrists on the other side with a slip knot, which he fastened securely.