Opening the vial carefully, he dipped in a thin piece of glass and
placed a tiny drop in a receptacle back of the needle and on the
needle itself.
Altogether it savored of the ancient days of the Borgias with
their weird poisoned rings.
Then he dropped the vial back into his pocket, pressed a spring,
and the needle went back into its unsuspected hiding place.
"I've set my invention to go off at three o'clock," he concluded.
"Tomorrow forenoon, it will have to be delivered early--and I
don't believe we shall be troubled any longer by Miss Elaine
Dodge," he added venomously.
Even the crooks, hardened as they were, could only gasp.
Calmly he wrapped up the apparently innocent engine of destruction
and handed it to Spike.
"See that she gets it in time," he said merely.
"I will, sir," answered Spike, taking it gingerly.
Flirty Florrie had returned that afternoon, late, from some
expedition on which she had been sent.
Rankling in her heart yet was the death of her lover, Dan the
Dude. For, although in her sphere of crookdom they are neither
married nor given in marriage, still there is a brand of loyalty
that higher circles might well copy. Sacred to the memory of the
dead, however, she had one desire--revenge.
Thus when she arrived home, she went to the telephone to report
and called a number, 4494 Greenwich.
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