t wits were on the alert. Never before had he known this
kind of hospitality to be tendered in a police station to a man arrested
red-handed. And although suspicious, he was nevertheless flattered. All
criminals, whether at the top or bottom of their profession, are beset
by vanity.

"A little out of your usual line this," went on Foyle, watching his man
intently. "As neat a job as ever was spoiled by accident. Now you know,
as well as I do, that we can't force you to talk. But it'll help us a
bit if you tell us who you got those keys from, for instance."

The office was small and plainly furnished, and Ike stared into the fire
as he sipped his whisky, with placid face. That the interview was to be
the English equivalent of the third degree, he knew not. There would be
no bullying, only coaxing. Foyle was in a position where consummate tact
was needed if he was to extract anything from the prisoner. He dared
neither threaten nor promise. However helpful Ike might be, he would
still have to submit the issue of guilt and punishment to a judge and
jury. Ike, unlike Dutch Fred, had no relations, and if he had it was
doubtful if any promise of consideration for them would move him.

"It's no good, Mr. Foyle," said Ike. "The only man that was in this with
me was Dutch Fred. You'd better go and get him, because I shall tell all
about it in court. He gave me the keys."

"Don't be a fool, Ike," interposed Green.

The prisoner glanced from one to the other with cunning, twinkling eyes.
He was too wary to say anything that may be used as evidence.

"I guess that it isn't bursting into the place that's put you two to
work," he said. "You want to know something. If I could help you I
s'pose you'd drop this case?"

Heldon Foyle shook his head resolutely.

"You know we can't do that in a case of felony. Mr. Green will put in a
good word for you at the trial. That's the farthest we can go to."

Ike put down his empty glass. He believed he held the whip hand--that he
had much to gain and nothing to lose by holding out for better terms. It
was a false impression, though a natural one. Heldon Foyle had neither
the power nor the inclination to drive a bargain that would permit Ike
to go unscathed to renew his depredations on society.

"It's no good, guv'nor," said Ike. "If you want me to talk I'll do
it--if you'll let me go."

"Right." Foyle rose abruptly. "We'll let it go at that, Ike. You please
yourself, of course. Mr. Green