er and forced him
back.

"What d'you mean, young man?" she demanded. "What do we know about old
Brunell?"

"You wrote him a letter--you knew where to find him."

"I only wish we did!" she ejaculated. "We didn't write him! You must
be crazy!"

"'Big money coming to you from old score left unpaid. What is my share
for collecting for you?'" quoted Morrow, adding: "I have a friend who
is very much interested in ciphers, and he wanted me to ask you about
the one you use, Pennold. His name is Blaine. Ever hear of him?"

"Blaine!" Mame's voice shrank to a mere whisper, and her sallow face
whitened.

"Blaine! Henry Blaine? The guy they call the Master Mind?" Pennold's
shaking voice rose to a breaking cry, but again his wife silenced
him.

"Suppose we did write such a letter--an' we ain't admittin' we did,
for a minute--what's Blaine got on us?" demanded Mame, coolly. "It's
no crime, as I ever heard, to write a letter any way you want to. Who
are you, young man? You're no bank clerk!"

"He's a 'tec, of course! Shut up your fool mouth, Mame. An' as for
you, d--n you, get out of this house, an' get out quick, or I'll call
the police myself! We've been leadin' straight, clean, respectable
lives for years, Mame an' me, an' nobody's got nothin' on us! I ain't
goin' to have no private 'tecs snoopin' in an' tryin' to put me
through the third degree. Beat it, now!"

He rose blusteringly and advanced toward Morrow with upraised fist,
but the other, with the table between them, drew from his pocket a
folded paper.

"Not so fast, Pennold. I have a warrant here for your arrest!"

"Don't you believe him, Wally!" shrilled Mame. "It's a fake! Don't you
talk to him! Put him out."

"The warrant was issued this morning, and I am empowered to arrest
you. You can look at it for yourselves; you've both seen them before."
He opened the paper and spread it out for them to read. "Walter
Pennold, alias William Perry, alias Wally the Scribbler, number 09203
in the Rogues' Gallery. First term at Joliet, for forgery; second at
Sing Sing for shoving the queer. This warrant only holds you as a
suspicious character, Pennold, but we can dig up plenty of other
things, if it's necessary; there's a forger named Griswold in the
Tombs now awaiting trial, who will snitch about that Rochester check,
for one thing."

"Don't let him bluff you, Wally." Mame faced Morrow from her husband's
side. "They can't rake up a thing that ain't outlawed by time.