ward
hung out for him that I'm figuring to born in on. I'd swipe it all
myself, don't you make any mistake about that, and you'd never get a
look-in, only, sore as the mob is on the Gray Seal, it ain't healthy for
any guy around these parts to get the reputation of being a snitch, no
matter who he snitches on. Bump him off--sure! Snitching--well, you get
the idea, eh? I'm ducking that too. Get me?"

"I get you," said Lannigan, with a short, pleased laugh.

"Well, then," announced Whitey Mack, "here's my proposition, and it's my
turn to hand out the 'look-out-for-your-self' dope. I'm busting the game
wide open for you to play, but you throw me down, and"--his voice sank
into a sullen snarl again--"you can take it from me, I'll get you for
it!"

"All right," responded Lannigan soberly. "Let's hear it. If I agree to
it, I'll stick to it."

"I believe you," said Whitey Mack curtly. "That's why I picked you out
for the medal they'll pin on you for this. And here's getting down to
tacks! I'll lead you to the Gray Seal to-night and help you nab him and
stay with you to the finish, but there's to be nobody but you and me on
the job. When it's done I fade away, and nobody's to know I snitched,
and no questions asked as to how I found out about the Gray Seal.
I ain't looking for any of the glory--you can fix that up to suit
yourself. The cash is different--you come across with half the reward
the day they pay it."

"You'll get it!" There was savage elation in Lannigan's voice, the
emphatic smash of a fist on the table. "You're on, Whitey. And if we get
the Gray Seal to-night, I'll do better by you than that."

"We'll get him!" said Whitey Mack, with a vicious oath. "And--"

Jimmie Dale crouched suddenly low down, close against the wall. The
crunch of a footstep sounded from the end of the lane. Some one had
turned in from the cross street, some fifty yards away, and was heading
evidently for the back entrance to Bristol Bob's. Jimmie Dale edged
noiselessly, cautiously back past the doorway, kept on, pressed close
against the wall, and finally paused. He had not been seen. The back
door of Bristol Bob's opened and closed. The man had gone in.

For a moment Jimmie Dale stood hesitant. There was a wild surging in his
brain, something like a myriad batteries of trip hammers seemed to be
pounding at his temples. Then, almost blindly, he kept on down the lane
in the same direction in which he had started to retreat--as well on