Like a flash Jimmie’s hand threw on the light. His sharp eyes looked for a note. There was none. The need was not great. The message of the flaming arrow was burned on his brain:
“Justice is an arrow of fire.”
The two men rose without a word. They left the place without dining. They did not return. Their actions spoke louder than words. They appeared to say:
“Here is something alarming, sinister, terrifying. Are we warned or threatened? Who is to stand up against such an invisible force?”
Was there, from time to time, about the corners of the slim bus boy’s lips on that night the suggestion of a smile? Who can say?
CHAPTER XXV
A WOLF SEEKS CULTURE
Jimmie McGowan was no ordinary cheap crook. That is to say, he did not deal in small change. He never picked a pocket nor snatched a purse. He did not jimmy a door to enter and carry away the silver while a family was away.
He preferred to deal in matters pertaining to thousands. He did not, however, disdain a few hundreds if opportunity came his way. By all this you may be led to conclude that he belonged in a class with Robin Hood; that he robbed only the rich, because they were rich, and perhaps even slipped a little of his quickly secured wealth into some poor man’s hand. But Jimmie was no Robin Hood, as you must know from what follows.
It chanced on a certain night that he saw a man draw a sum of several hundred dollars from his bank. The man walked away from the bank. Jimmie, noting his direction, walked around the opposite corner and, by doing a double-quick down an alley, managed to meet him at a dark corner two blocks farther on.
“Hands up!” commanded Jimmie.