In this life of ours, years become months, months become weeks, weeks narrow down to days, days dwindle to hours, hours to minutes; then the unexpected happens.  
Johnny Thompson was about to meet his one time pal. Once more their lives were to be joined in a great adventure. But not yet. Years, months, weeks, days had dwindled, but hours had not yet become moments in the hourglass of fate.
 
Johnny was on his way to Curlie’s airport. He stood on the curb, waiting for the westbound car, when someone touched his elbow and demanded in some surprise:
 
“What’s happened?”
 
It was “The Ferret,” the silent worker of the detective world.
 
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“Enough has happened,” Johnny answered, not at all displeased by this surprise meeting. “Drew and Tom have been shelved. Greasy Thumb has been found and turned loose. I am shortly to take a course in shoemaking behind iron bars. And—”
 
“Hold on!” “The Ferret” stopped him. “It can’t be as bad as that. Give me a few details. Come on in here. It’s a crooked dump of a place, but I’m known, or at least they think they know me.” He smiled a twisted smile. “Anyway, it’s an off hour. There’s sure to be no one here.”
 
He was right. The small, barn-like room they entered was deserted. Doors on three sides were closed. For all ............