n and tried to break away from. But not
Casey.

"Hello, Casey. Well, I suppose you're going to invite me to go along
with you?"

"Where were you going?"

"Into this house."

"Then I'll invite myself to go along with you."

He quickly pushed Larry before him into the hallway, which was empty
since all the tenants were at their dinner. Larry remembered the scene
down in Deputy Police Commissioner Barlow's office, when the Chief of
Detectives had demanded that he become a stool-pigeon working under
Gavegan and Casey, and the grilling and the threats, more than
fulfilled, which had followed.

"Going to give me a little private quiz first, Casey," he asked, "and
then call in Gavegan and lead me down to Barlow?"

"Not unless Gavegan or some one else saw and recognized you, which
I know they didn't since I was watching for that very thing. And not
unless you yourself feel hungry for a visit to Headquarters."

"If I feel hungry, it's an appetite I'm willing to make wait."

"You know I don't want to pinch you. My part in this has been a dirty
job that was just pushed my way. You know that I know you've been framed
and double-crossed, and that I won't run you in unless I can't get out
of it."

"Thanks, Casey. You're too white to have to run with people like Barlow
and Gavegan. But if it wasn't to pinch me, why did you stop me out there
in the street?"

"Been hoping I might some day run into you on the quiet. There are some
things I've learned--never mind how--that I wanted to slip you for your
own good."

"Go to it, Casey."

"First, I've got a hunch that it was Barney Palmer who tipped off the
police about Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt, and then spread it among
all the crooks that you were the stool and squealer."

"Yes, I'd guessed that much."

"Second, I've got a hunch that it really was from Barney Palmer that
Barlow got his idea of making you become a stool-pigeon. Barney is a
smooth one all right, and he figured what would happen. He knew you
would refuse, and he knew Barlow would uncork hell beneath you. Barney
certainly called every turn."

"What--what--" stammered Larry. "Why, then Barney must be--" He paused,
utterly astounded by the newness of the possibility that had just risen
in his mind.

"You've got it, Larry," Casey went on. "Barney is a police stool. Has
been one for years. Works directly for Barlow. We're not supposed to
know anything about it. He's turned up a lot of big ones. That's