The Adventures of Jimmie Dale HTML version

II.7. The "Hour"
As the minutes passed, many of them, Jimmie Dale sat there motionless, staring
before him at the desk that was faintly outlined in the unlighted room. Then
somewhere in the house a clock struck the hour. Five o'clock! He raised his
head. YES! It could be done! There was a way! He had the germ of it now. And
now the plan began to grow, to take form and shape in his mind, to dovetail, to
knit the integral parts into a comprehensive whole. There was a way--but he must
have assistance. Jason--yes, assuredly. Benson, his chauffeur--yes, equally as
trustworthy as Jason. Benson was devoted to him; and moreover Benson was
young, alert, daring, cool. He had had more than one occasion to test Benson's
resourcefulness and nerve!
Jimmie Dale rose abruptly, went to the rear window, and, parting the curtains
cautiously, stood peering down into the courtyard. Yes, it was feasible; even a
little more than feasible. The garage fronted the driveway, of course, to give free
entrance and egress to the cars, but where the wall of the garage and the rear
wall of the house overlapped, as it were, the space between them was not much
more than ten yards; and here the shadows of the two walls, mingling, lay like a
black, impenetrable pathway--not like that other shadow he had seen moving at
the side of the garage, and that, if not for the moment discernible, was none the
less surely still lurking there!
Satisfied, Jimmie Dale swung briskly from the window, and, going now to his
bedroom across the hall, undressed and went to bed--but not to sleep. There
would be time enough to sleep, all day, if he wished; now, there were still the little
details to be thought out that, more than anything else, could make or wreck his
plans. A point overdone, the faintest suggestion of a false note where men of the
calibre of those against whom he was now fighting for his life were concerned,
would not only make his scheme abortive, but would place him utterly at their