twelve minutes after nine
Jimmie Dale raised his hand to the gas fixture , circled the room with a glance that missed no single detail -- then the light went out , the door closed behind him , locked , a dark shadow crept silently down the stairs , out through the side door into the alleyway , along the alleyway close to the wall of the tenement where it was blackest , and , satisfied that for the moment there were no passers-by , emerged on the street , walking leisurely toward the Bowery . Once well away from the Sanctuary , however , Jimmie Dale quickened his steps ; and twenty minutes later , having stopped but once to telephone to his home on Riverside Drive for his touring car , he was briskly mounting the steps of the St. James Club on Fifth Avenue . Another twenty minutes after that , and he had dismissed Benson , his chauffeur , and , at the wheel of his big , powerful machine , was speeding uptown for the Palais-Metropole Hotel . It was twelve minutes after nine when he drew up at the curb in front of the side entrance of the hotel -- his watch , set by guesswork , had been a little slow , and he had corrected it at the club . He was replacing the watch in his pocket as he sauntered around the corner , and passed in through the main entrance to the big lobby . Jimmie Dale avoided the elevators -- it was only one flight up , and elevator boys on occasions had been known to be observant . At the top of the first landing , a long , wide , heavily carpeted corridor was before him .