g Kenner when he was the maddest.
Don't ask me to tell you what they were.

Jim Cassidy still clung desperately to his faith in Smiling Lou; but
Casey's faith hadn't so much as a finger-hold on anything. What kind of
a government was it, he asked himself bitterly, that would leave a
trusted agent twenty-four hours shut up in a cell with a whining crook
like Jim Cassidy? If, he added pessimistically, he were an agent of
the government. Casey doubted it. So far as he could see, Casey Ryan
wasn't anything but the goat.

His chief desire now was to get out of there as soon as possible so
that he could hunt up Mack Nolan and lick the livin' tar wit of him--or
worse. He wanted bail and he wanted it immediately. Not a soul bad
come near him, save the trusty, in spite of certain mysterious messages
which Casey had sent to the office, asking for an interview with the
judge or somebody; Casey didn't care who. Locked in a cell, how was he
going to do any of the things Nolan had told him to do if he happened
to find himself arrested by an honest officer?

When they hauled him before the police judge, Casey hadn't been given
the chance to explain anything to anybody. Unless, of course, he
wanted to beller out his business before everybody; and that, he told
himself fiercely, was not Casey Ryan's idea of the way to keep a
secret. Moreover, that damned speed cop was standing right there, just
waiting for a chance to wind his fingers in Casey's collar and choke
him off if he tried to say a word. And how the hell, Casey would like
to know, was a man going to explain himself when he couldn't get a word
in edgeways?

So Casey wanted bail. There were just two ways of getting it, and it
went against the grain of his pride to take either one. That is why
Casey waited until noon before his Irish stubbornness yielded a bit and
he decided to wire me to come. He had to slip the wire out by the
underground method--meaning the good will of the trusty. It cost Casey
ten dollars, but he didn't grudge that.

He spent that afternoon and most of the night mentally calling the
trusty a liar and a thief because there was no reply to the message. As
a matter of fact, the trusty sent the wire through as quickly as
possible and the fault was mine if any one's. I was too busy hurrying
to the rescue to think about sending Casey word that I was coming.
Casey said afterwards that my thoughtlessness would be cured for life
if I were ever locked