"What's wrong?" Malone said.

The police lieutenant looked up. "I don't know if it's wrong or what,"
he said. "It gives me sort of the willies. I know every one of these
kids."

Malone took out a pill and swallowed it in a hurry. He felt exactly as
if he had been given another concussion, absolutely free and without
any obligations. His mouth opened but nothing came out for a long
time. At last he managed to say, _"Kids?"_

"That's right," Lynch said. "What did you think?"

Malone shrugged helplessly.

"Every single one of them," Lynch said. "Right from around here."

There was a little silence.

"Who are they?" Malone said carefully.

"They're some kind of kid gang--a social club, or something like that.
This first kid--Miguel Fueyo's his full name--is the leader. They call
themselves the Silent Spooks."

"The what?" It seemed to Malone that the name was just a little fancy,
even for a kid gang.

"The Silent Spooks," Lynch said. "I can't help it. But here they are,
every one of them: Fueyo, Ramon Otravez, Mario Grito, Silvo Envoz,
Alvarez Altapor, Felipe la Barba, Juan de los Santos, and Ray del
Este. Right down the line." He looked up from the notebook with a
blank expression on his face. "All of them kids from this
neighborhood. The Silent Spooks."

"They know you?" Malone said.

"Sure they do," Lynch said. "They all know me. But do they know you?"

Malone thought. "They could have heard of me," he said at last, trying
to be as modest as possible.

"I guess," Lynch said grudgingly. "How old are they?" Malone said.

"Fourteen to seventeen," Lynch said. "Somewhere in there. You know how
these kid things run."

"The Silent Spooks," Malone said meditatively. It was a nice name, in
a way; you just had to get used to it for a while. When he had been a
kid, he'd belonged to a group that called itself the East Division
Street Kids. There just wasn't much romance in a name like that. Now
the Silent Spooks...

With a wrench, he brought his mind back to the subject at hand. "Do
they get into much trouble?" he said.

"Well, no," Lynch said reluctantly. "As a matter of fact, they don't.
For a bunch like that, around here, they're pretty well behaved, as
far as that goes."

"What do you mean?" Malone said.

Lynch's face took on a delicately unconcerned appearance. "I don't
know," he said. "They just don't get into neighborhood trouble. Maybe
a scrap now and then--nothing big, though. Or maybe one of t