The Adventures of Jimmie Dale HTML version

II.9. The Tocsin's Story
LaSalle! The old French name! That old French inscription on the ring: "SONNEZ
LE TOCSIN!" Yes; he began to understand now. She was Marie LaSalle! He
began to remember more clearly.
Marie LaSalle! They had said she was one of the most beautiful girls who had
ever made her entree into New York society. But he had never met her--as Marie
LaSalle; never met her--until now, as the Tocsin, in this bare, destitute, squalid
hovel, here at bay, both of them, for their lives.
He had been away when she had come with her father to New York; and on his
return there had only been the father's brother in the father's place--and she was
gone. He remembered the furor her disappearance had caused; the enormous
rewards her uncle had offered in an effort to trace her; the thousand and one
speculations as to what had become of her; and that then, gradually, as even the
most startling and mystifying of events and happenings always do, the affair had
dropped into oblivion and had been forgotten by the public at least. He began to
count back. Yes, it must have been nearly five years ago; two years before she,
as the Tocsin, and he, as the Gray Seal, had formed their amazing and singular
partnership, that--he started suddenly, as she spoke.
"I want to tell you in as few words as I can," she said abruptly, breaking the
silence. "Listen, then, Jimmie. My mother died ten years ago. I was little more
than a child then. Shortly after her death, father made a business trip to New
York, and, on the advice of some supposed friends, he had a new will drawn up
by a lawyer whom they recommended, and to whom they introduced him. I do
not know who those men were. The lawyer's name was Travers, Hilton Travers."
She glanced curiously at Jimmie Dale, and added quickly: "He was the chauffeur-
-the man who was killed last night."
"You mean," Jimmie Dale burst out, "you mean that he was--but, first, the will!
What was in the will?"