A slow flush of disappointment, deepening to one of anger dyed Burton’s cheeks.

“Are you trying to make a fool of me?” he cried out.  “Go to Maddon with a childish tale like that!  There’s no man living would believe such a cock-and-bull story!”

“No?” inquired Jimmie Dale softly.  “And yet I am inclined to think there are a good many—­that even Maddon would, hard-headed as he is.  You might say that when the man handed you the case you thought it was some practical joke being foisted on you, until you opened the case”—­Jimmie Dale pushed it a little farther across the table, and Burton, mechanically, his eyes still on Jimme Dale, loosened the catch with his thumb nail—­“until you opened the case, saw the rubies, and—­”

“The Gray Seal!” Burton had snatched the case toward him, and was straining his eyes at the inside cover.  “You—­the Gray Seal!”

“Well?” said Jimmie Dale whimsically.

Motionless, the case held open in his hands, Burton stood there.

“The Gray Seal!” he whispered.  Then, with a catch in his voice:  “You mean this?  You mean to let me have these back—­you mean—­you mean all you’ve said?  For God’s sake, don’t play with me—­the Gray Seal, the most notorious criminal in the country, to give back a fortune like this!  You—­you—­”

“Dog with a bad name,” said Jimmie Dale, with a wry smile; then, a little gruffly:  “Put it in your pocket!”

Slowly, almost as though he expected the case to be snatched back from him the next instant, Burton obeyed.

“I don’t understand—­I can’t understand!” he murmured.  “They say that you—­and yet I believe you now—­you’ve saved me from a ruined life to-night.  The Gray Seal!  If—­if every one knew what you had done, they—­”

“But every one won’t,” Jimmie Dale broke in bluntly, “Who is to tell them?  You?  You couldn’t very well, when you come to think of it—­could you?  Well, who knows, perhaps there have been others like you!”

“You mean,” said Burton excitedly, “you mean that all these crimes of yours that have seemed without motive, that have been so inexplicable, have really been like to-night to—­”

“I don’t mean anything at all,” interposed Jimmie Dale a little hurriedly.  “Nothing, Burton—­except that there is still one little thing more to do to bolster up that ‘childish’ story of mine—­and then get out of here.”  He glanced sharply, critically around the room, his eyes resting for a moment at the last on the form on the floor.  Then tersely:  “I am going to turn out the light—­we will have to pass the window to get to the door, and we will invite no chances.  Are you ready?”

“No; not yet,” said Burton eagerly.  “I haven’t said what I’d like to say to you, what I—­”

“Walk straight to the door,” said Jimmie Dale curtly.  There was the click of an electric-light switch, and the room was in darkness.  “Now, no noise!” he instructed.