He reached in, seized one of a dozen little boxes, and wrenched off the cover.

A blue, scintillating gleam seemed to leap out to meet the white ray of the flashlight.

The man chuckled hoarsely, and began to cram the rest of the boxes into his pockets.
Jimmie Dale stirred.

On hands and knees he was creeping now from beneath the workbench.

Something caught and tore behind him--the canvas curtain.
And at the sound, with a sharp cry, the man at the wall whirled, the light went out, and he sprang toward the window.