Burke was a persistent man, and he had set himself to getting themurderer of Griggs. Foiled in his efforts thus far by theopposition of Mary, he now gave himself over to careful thoughtas to a means of procedure that might offer the bestpossibilities of success. His beetling brows were drawn in afrown of perplexity for a full quarter of an hour, while herested motionless in his chair, an unlighted cigar between hislips. Then, at last, his face cleared; a grin of satisfactiontwisted his heavy mouth, and he smote the desk joyously.

　　"It's a cinch it'll get 'im!" he rumbled, in glee.

　　He pressed the button-call, and ordered the doorman to send inCassidy. When the detective appeared a minute later, he wentdirectly to his subject with a straightforward energy usual tohim in his work.

　　"Does Garson know we've arrested the Turner girl and youngGilder?" And, when he had been answered in the negative: "Orthat we've got Chicago Red and Dacey here?""No," Cassidy replied. "He hasn't been spoken to since we madethe collar.... He seems worried," the detective volunteered.

　　Burke's broad jowls shook from the force with which he snappedhis jaws together.

　　"He'll be more worried before I get through with him!" hegrowled. He regarded Cassidy speculatively. "Do you remember theThird Degree Inspector Burns worked on McGloin? Well," he wenton, as the detective nodded assent, "that's what I'm going to doto Garson. He's got imagination, that crook! The things he don'tknow about are the things he's afraid of. After he gets in here,I want you to take his pals one after the other, and lock them upin the cells there in the corridor. The shades on the corridorwindows here will be up, and Garson will see them taken in. Thefact of their being there will set his imagination to workingovertime, all right."Burke reflected for a moment, and then issued the finaldirections for the execution of his latest plot.

　　"When you get the buzzer from me, you have young Gilder and theTurner woman sent in. Then, after a while, you'll get anotherbuzzer. When you hear that, come right in here, and tell me thatthe gang has squealed. I'll do the rest. Bring Garson here injust five minutes.... Tell Dan to come in."As the detective went out, the doorman promptly entered, andthereat Burke proceeded with the further instructions necessaryto the carrying out of his scheme.

　　"Take the chairs out of the office, Dan," he directed, "exceptmine and one other--that one!" He indicated a chair standing alittle way from one end of his desk. "Now, have all the shadesup." He chuckled as he added: "That Turner woman saved you thetrouble with one."As the doorman went out after having fulfilled these commands,the Inspector lighted the cigar which he had retained still inhis mouth, and then seated himself in the chair that was setpartly facing the windows opening on the corridor. He smiledwith anticipatory triumph as he made sure that the whole lengthof the corridor with the barred doors of the cells was plainlyvisible to one sitting thus. With a final glance about to makecertain that all was in readiness, he returned to his chair, and,when the door opened, he was, to all appearances, busily engagedin writing.

　　"Here's Garson, Chief," Cassidy announced.

　　"Hello, Joe!" Burke exclaimed, with a seeming of carelessfriendliness, as the detective went out, and Garson stoodmotionless just within the door.

　　"Sit down, a minute, won't you?" the Inspector continued,affably. He did not look up from his writing as he spoke.

　　Garson's usually strong face was showing weak with fear. Hischin, which was commonly very firm, moved a little from uneasytwitchings of his lips. His clear eyes were slightly clouded toa look of apprehension, as they roved the room furtively. Hemade no answer to the Inspector's greeting for a few moments, butremained standing without movement, poised alertly as if sensingsome concealed peril. Finally, however, his anxiety foundexpression in words. His tone was pregnant with alarm, though hestrove to make it merely complaining.

　　"Say, what am I arrested for?" he protested. "I ain't doneanything."Even now, Burke did not look up, and his pen continued to hurryover the paper.

　　"Who told you you were arrested?" he remarked, cheerfully, inhis blandest voice.

　　Garson uttered an ejaculation of disgust.

　　"I don't have to be told," he retorted, huffily. "I'm no collegepresident, but, when a cop grabs me and brings me down here, I'vegot sense enough to know I'm pinched."The Inspector did not interrupt his work, but answered with theutmost good nature.

　　"Is that what they did to you, Joe? I'll have to speak toCassidy about that. Now, just you sit down, Joe, won't you? Iwant to have a little talk with you. I'll be through here in asecond." He went on with the writing.

　　Garson moved forward slightly, to the single chair near the endof the desk, and there seated himself mechanically. His face thuswas turned toward the windows that gave on the corridor, and hiseyes grew yet more clouded as they rested on the grim doors ofthe cells. He writhed in his chair, and his gaze jumped from thecells to the impassive figure of the man at the desk. Now, theforger's nervousness increased momently it swept beyond hiscontrol. Of a sudden, he sprang up, and stepped close to theInspector.

　　"Say," he said, in a husky voice, "I'd like--I'd like to have alawyer.""What's the matter with you, Joe?" the Inspector returned,always with that imperturbable air, and without raising his headfrom the work that so engrossed his attention. "You know, you'renot arrested, Joe. Maybe, you never will be. Now, for the loveof Mike, keep still, and let me finish this letter."Slowly, very hesitatingly, Garson went back to the chair, andsank down on it in a limp attitude of dejection wholly unlike hiscustomary postures of strength. Again, his fear-fascinated eyeswent to the row of cells that stood silently menacing on theother side of the corridor beyond the windows. His face wastinged with gray. A physical sickness was creeping stealthily onhim, as his thoughts held insistently to the catastrophe thatthreatened. His intelligence was too keen to permit a beliefthat Burke's manner of almost fulsome kindliness hid nothingominous--ominous with a hint of death for him in return for thedeath he had wrought.

　　Then, terror crystallized. His eyes were caught by a figure, thefigure of Cassidy, advancing there in the corridor. And with thedetective went a man whose gait was slinking, craven. Acell-door swung open, the prisoner stepped within, the doorclanged to, the bolts shot into their sockets noisily.

　　Garson sat huddled, stricken--for he had recognized the victimthrust into the cell before his eyes.... It was Dacey, one of hisown cronies in crime--Dacey, who, the night before, had seen himkill Eddie Griggs. There was something concretely sinister toGarson in this fact of Dacey's presence there in the cell.

　　Of a sudden, the forger cried out raucously:

　　"Say, Inspector, if you've got anything on me, I--I would----"The cry dropped into unintelligible mumblings.

　　Burke retained his manner of serene indifference to the other'sagitation. Still, his pen hurried over the paper; and he did nottrouble to look up as he expostulated, half-banteringly.

　　"Now, now! What's the matter with you, Joe? I told you that Iwanted to ask you a few questions. That's all."Garson leaped to his feet again resolutely, then faltered, andultimately fell back into the chair with a groan, as theInspector went on speaking.

　　"Now, Joe, sit down, and keep still, I tell you, and let me getthrough with this job. It won't take me more than a minutemore."But, after a moment, Garson's emotion forced hint to anotherappeal.

　　"Say, Inspector----" he began.

　　Then, abruptly, he was silent, his mouth still open to utter thewords that were now held back by horror. Again, he saw thedetective walking forward, out there in the corridor. And withhim, as before, was a second figure, which advanced slinkingly.

　　Garson leaned forward in his chair, his head thrust out, watchingin rigid suspense. Again, even as before, the door swung wide,the prisoner slipped within, the door clanged shut, the boltsclattered noisily into their sockets.

　　And, in the watcher, terror grew--for he had seen the face ofChicago Red, another of his pals, another who had seen him killGriggs.............