was fully a third of a mile from his
shack to barracks, possibly half a mile. And it was mostly upgrade! If
Kent could be brought to him--

In his cell Kent waited. It was not difficult for him to hear voices in
Kedsty's office when the door was open, and he knew that the Inspector
did not come in until after the missioner had gone on his mission to
Dirty Fingers. Usually he was at the barracks an hour or so earlier.
Kent made no effort to figure out a reason for Kedsty's lateness, but
he did observe that after his arrival there was more than the usual
movement between the office door and the outside of the barracks. Once
he was positive that he heard Cardigan's voice, and then he was equally
sure that he heard Mercer's. He grinned at that. He must be wrong, for
Mercer would be in no condition to talk for several days. He was glad
that a turn in the hall hid the door of the detachment office from him,
and that the three cells were in an alcove, safely out of sight of the
curious eyes of visitors. He was also glad that he had no other
prisoner for company. His situation was one in which he wanted to be
alone. To the plan that was forming itself in his mind, solitude was as
vital as the cooperation of Alexander Toppet Fingers.

Just how far he could win that cooperation was the problem which
confronted him now, and he waited anxiously for the return of Father
Layonne, listening for the sound of his footsteps in the outer hall.
If, after all, that inspirational thought of last night came to
nothing, if Fingers should fail him--

He shrugged his shoulders. If that happened, he could see no other
chance. He would have to go on and take his medicine at the hands of a
jury. But if Fingers played up to the game--

He looked out on the river again, and again it was the river that
seemed to answer him. If Fingers played with him, they would beat
Kedsty and the whole of N Division! And in winning he would prove out
the greatest psychological experiment he had ever dared to make. The
magnitude of the thing, when he stopped to think of it, was a little
appalling, but his faith was equally large. He did not consider his
philosophy at all supernatural. He had brought it down to the level of
the average man and woman.

He believed that every man and woman possessed a subliminal
consciousness which it was possible to rouse to tremendous heights if
the right psychological key was found to fit its particular lock, and
he believed h