Stillness again!  Silence!  Only a low, tense breathing; only, so faint that it could not be heard a foot away, a curious scratching, as from time to time the supersensitive fingers fell away from the dial to rub upon the carpet—­to increase even their sensitiveness by setting the nerves to throbbing through the skin surface at the tips.  And then Jimmie Dale’s head, ear pressed close against the safe to catch the tumbler’s fall, was lifted—­and the flashlight played again on the dial.

“Twenty-eight and a quarter—­left.”

How fast the time went—­and how slowly!  Still the black shape crouched there in the darkness against the safe.  At times, in strange, ghostly flashes, the nickel dial with the ray upon it seemed to leap out and glisten through the surrounding blackness; at times, the quick intake of breath, as from great exertion; at times, faint, musical little clicks, as, after abortive effort, the dial whirled, preparatory to a fresh attempt.  And then, at last—­a gasp of relief: 

“Ah!”

Came the sound, barely audible, as of steel sliding in well-oiled grooves, the muffled thud of metal meeting metal as the bolts shot back—­and the heavy door swung outward.

Jimmie Dale stretched his cramped limbs, and wiped the moisture from his face—­then set to work again upon the inner door.  This was an easier matter—­far easier.  Five minutes, perhaps a little more, went by—­and then the inner door was open, and the flashlight’s ray was flooding the interior of the safe.

A queer little sound, half of astonishment, half of disappointment, issued from Jimmie Dale’s lips.  There was money here, a great deal of money, undoubtedly, but there was no such sum as he had, somehow, fantastically imagined from the Magpie’s evidently overcoloured story that there would be; there was money, ten packages of banknotes neatly piled in the bottom compartment—­but there was no half million of dollars!  He picked up one of the packages hurriedly—­and drew in his breath.  After all, there was a great deal—­the notes were of hundred-dollar denomination, and on the bottom were two one-thousand-dollar bills!  Calculated roughly, if each of the other nine packages contained a like amount, the total must exceed a hundred thousand.

And now Jimmie Dale began to work with feverish haste.  From the leather girdle inside his shirt came the thin metal insignia case—­and a gray seal was stuck firmly on the dial knob of the safe.  This done, he tucked away the packages of banknotes, some into his pockets and some inside his shirt; and then quickly ransacked the interior of the safe, flauntingly spilling the contents of drawers and pigeonholes out upon the floor.

He stood up, and, leaving the safe door wide open, walked back across the room to the window, unfastened the catch, and opened the window an inch or two.  The way was open now for the Magpie!  The Magpie would have no need to make any noise in forcing an entrance; he would be able to see almost at a glance that he had been forestalled—­by the Gray Seal; and that, as far as he was concerned, the game was up.  The Magpie had his chance!  If the Magpie did not take the hint and make his escape as noiselessly as he had entered—­it was his own fault!  He, Jimmie Dale, had given the Magpie his chance.