..
Demarest shook his head dejectedly.

"Burke," he said, "I want the boy to go free. I don't believe for a
minute that Dick Gilder ever killed this pet stool-pigeon of yours. And,
so, you must understand this: I want him to go free, of course."

Burke frowned refusal at this suggestion. Here was a matter in which his
rights must not be invaded. He, too, would have gone far to serve a man
of Edward Gilder's standing, but in this instance his professional pride
was in revolt. He had been defied, trapped, made a victim of the gang
who had killed his most valued informer.

"The youngster'll go free when he tells what he knows," he said angrily,
"and not a minute before." His expression lightened a little. "Perhaps
the old gentleman can make him talk. I can't. He's under that woman's
thumb, of course, and she's told him he mustn't say a word. So, he
don't." A grin of half-embarrassed appreciation moved the heavy jaws as
he glanced at the District Attorney. "You see," he explained, "I can't
make him talk, but I might if circumstances were different. On account
of his being the old man's son, I'm a little cramped in my style."

It was, in truth, one thing to browbeat and assault a convict like Dacey
or Chicago Red, but quite another to employ the like violence against
a youth of Dick Gilder's position in the world. Demarest understood
perfectly, but he was inclined to be sceptical over the Inspector's
theory that Dick possessed actual cognizance as to the killing of
Griggs.

"You think that young Gilder really knows?" he questioned, doubtfully.

"I don't think anything--yet!" Burke retorted. "All I know is this:
Eddie Griggs, the most valuable crook that ever worked for me, has been
murdered." The official's voice was charged with threatening as he went
on. "And some one, man or woman, is going to pay for it!"

"Woman?" Demarest repeated, in some astonishment.

Burke's voice came merciless.

"I mean, Mary Turner," he said slowly.

Demarest was shocked.

"But, Burke," he expostulated, "she's not that sort." The Inspector
sneered openly.

"How do you know she ain't?" he demanded. "Well, anyhow, she's made a
monkey out of the Police Department, and, first, last, and all the time,
I'm a copper... And that reminds me," he went on with a resumption of
his usual curt bluntness, "I want you to wait for Mr. Gilder outside,
while I get busy with the girl they've brought down from Mary Turner's
flat."

CHAPTER XXI.