or
other, he must still get that paper first.

He was at the tenement now--shuffling leisurely up the steps. The front
door was open. He entered, and went up the first flight of stairs, then
along the hall, and up the next flight. He had half expected the place
to be bustling with excitement over the crime; but the police evidently
had kept the affair quiet, for he had seen no one since he had
entered. But now, as he began to mount the third flight, he went more
slowly--some one was ahead of him. It was very dark--he could not see.
The steps above died away. He reached the landing, started along for
Hagan's room--and a light blazed suddenly in his face, and a hard,
quick grip on his shoulder forced him back against the wall. Then the
flashlight wavered, glistened on brass buttons went out, and a voice
laughed roughly:

"It's only Larry the Bat!"

"Larry the Bat, eh?" It was another voice, harsh and curt. "What are you
doing here?"

He was not first, after all! The telephone message from Pelham--it was
almost certainly that--had beaten him! They were ahead of him, just
ahead of him, they had only been a few steps ahead of him going up the
stairs, just a second ahead of him on their way to Hagan's room! Jimmie
Dale was thinking fast now. He must go, too--to Hagan's room with
them--somehow--there was no other way--there was Hagan's life at stake.

"Aw, I ain't done nothin'!" he whined. "I was just goin' ter borrow the
price of a feed from Mike Hagan--lemme go!"

"Hagan, eh!" snapped the questioner. "Are you a friend of his?"

"Sure, I am!"

The officers whispered for a moment together.

"We'll try it," decided the one who appeared to be in command. "We're
in the dark, anyhow, and the thing may be only a steer. Mabbe it'll
work--anyway, it won't do any harm." His hand fell heavily on Jimmie
Dale's shoulder. "Mrs. Hagan know you?" brusquely.

"Sure she does!" sniffled Larry the Bat.

"Good!" rasped the officer. "Well, we'll make the visit with you. And
you do what you're told, or we'll put the screws on you--see? We're
after something here, and you've blown the whole game--savvy? You've
spilled the gravy--understand?"

In the darkness, Jimmie Dale smiled grimly. It was far more than he had
dared to hope for--they were playing into his hands!

"But I don't know 'bout any game," grovelled Larry the Bat piteously.

"Who in hell said you did!" growled the officer. "You're supposed to
have snitched the lay to u