It lighted up the malignant grin which spread over his features as he glanced over at the doctor’s house.
“It’s a nice awakening you’ll have in a few minutes, doc,” he chuckled sardonically. “It isn’t much you have gained by giving me the sack. No man does me dirt but I get back at him for it.”
Then he shut the door again, leaving it slightly ajar, so that nothing might hinder the rapidity of his escape as soon as he had put the finishing touch to his contemplated crime.
This he hastened to do.
He made a torch of an old newspaper, ignited one end at the night lamp, and then touched the acid-sprinkled floor here and there, and wherever the fire of the torch touched the wood weird blue flames sprang into being and spread themselves out.
Then, with a malevolent laugh, Clymer threw the half-burned torch into the middle of the floor, dashed open the surgery door and sprang out into—the arms of Jack Howard.
CHAPTER V.
WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE.
“Otis Clymer, what are you doing here at this hour in the morning?” exclaimed Jack, holding a strong grip on the struggling clerk.
“None of your business—let me go!” gritted the villain, using every effort to free himself.