goin' to put up no holler at dat. We ain't runnin' de gang into
nothin'. Dis is private business--see? So youse just take a sneak wid
yerself, an' fix a nice little alibi fer us so's we won't be takin' any
chances."

Shluker frowned.

"But what's the good of that?" he demurred. "French Pete and Marny Day
'll see you anyway."

"Will dey!" scoffed the Pug. "Guess once more! A coupla handkerchiefs
over our mugs is good enough fer dem, if youse holds yer end up. An' dey
wouldn't talk fer publication, anyway, would dey?"

Shluker smiled now-almost ingratiatingly.

"And how much is my end worth?" he inquired softly.

"One of dem thousand-dollar engravin's," stated the Pug promptly. "An'
Pinkie'll run around an' slip it to youse before mornin'."

"All right," said Shluker, after a moment. "It's half past eight now.
From nine o'clock on, you can beat any jury in New York to it that you
were both at the same old place--as long as you keep decently under
cover. That'll do, won't it? I'll fix it. But I don't see--"

Rhoda Gray, as Gypsy Nan, for the first time projected herself into the
discussion. She cackled suddenly in jeering mirth.

"I t'ought something was wrong wid her!" whispered the Pug with mock
anxiety. "Mabbe she ain't well! Tell us about it, Nan!"

"When I do," she said complacently, "mabbe youse'll smile out of de
other corner of dat mouth of yers!" She turned to Shluker. "Youse
needn't lay awake waitin' fer dat thousand, Shluker, 'cause youse'll
never see it. De little game's all off--'cause it's already been pulled.
See? Dere was near a riot as I passes along a street goin' to yer place,
an' I gets piped off to wot's up, an' it's de same story dat Pinkie's
told, an' de crib's cracked, an' de money's gone--dat's all."

Shluker's face fell.

"I said you were fools when I first came in here!" he burst out
suddenly, wheeling on Pinkie Bonn and the Pug. "I'm sure of it now. I
was wonderin a minute ago how you were goin' to keep your lamps on Pete
and Marny from here, or know when they were goin' to pull their stunt,
or where to find 'em."

Pinkie Bonn, ignoring Shluker, leaned toward Rhoda Gray.

"Say, Nan, is that straight?" he inquired anxiously. "You sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure!" Rhoda Gray asserted tersely. The one thought in her
head now was that her information would naturally deprive these men here
of any further interest in the matter, and that she would get away as
quickly as possible, and, in som