one o'clock in the morning
`` N-no , '' -- Markel could scarcely chatter out the word . `` Quite so , '' said Jimmie Dale , in velvet tones . He stood for an instant looking at the other with cool insolence ; then : `` Good-night , Markel '' -- and five minutes later a great touring car was tearing New Yorkward over the Long Island roads at express speed . It was one o'clock in the morning as Jimmie Dale swung the car into a cross street off lower Broadway , and drew up at the curb beside a large office building . He got out , snuggled the cash box under his ulster , went around to the Broadway entrance , glanced up to note that a light burned in a fifth-story window , and entered the building . The hallway was practically in darkness , one or two incandescents only threw a dim light about . Jimmie Dale stopped for a moment at the foot of the stairs , beside the elevator well , to listen -- if the watchman was making rounds , it was in another part of the building Jimmie Dale began to climb .