l unconscious of surveillance, the suspect was out of the door, on the
pavement, when they closed on him. At the touch of Cassidy's big hand
upon his shoulder he spun round, staring at them with wide-open,
startled eyes. Above his scraggy beard his face was dappled white and
red in patches, and under the mottled skin little muscles twitched
visibly.

"What--what do you want?" he demanded in a shaken, quick voice. A
gold-capped tooth showed in his upper jaw between his lips.

"We want a word or two with you," said Cassidy, with a sort of
threatening emphasis.

"Are you--are you officers?" He got the question out with a separate
gulp for each separate word.

"Not exactly," answered Cassidy, and tightened his grip on the other's
shoulder the least bit more firmly. "But we can call one mighty easy if
you ain't satisfied to talk to us a minute or two. There's one yonder."

He ducked his head toward where, forty yards distant, a middle-aged and
somewhat pursy patrolman was shepherding the traffic that eddied in
small whirls about the steps of the subway terminal.

"All right, all right," assented the captive eagerly. "I'll talk to you.
Let's go over there--where it's quiet." He pointed a wavering finger,
with a glistening, highly polished nail on it, toward the opposite side
of the street; there the park came right up to the sidewalk and ended.
They went, and in a minute all three of them were grouped close up to
the shrub-lined boundary. The mottled-faced man was in the middle. Green
stood on one side of him and Cassidy on the other, shouldering up so
close that they blocked him off, flank and front.

"Now, then, we're all nice and cozy," said Cassidy with a touch of that
irony which a cat often displays, in different form, upon capturing a
live mouse. "And we want to ask you a few questions. What's your
name--your real name?" he demanded roughly.

"Morrison," said the man, licking with his tongue to moisten his lips.

"Did you say Maxwell?" asked Cassidy, shooting out his syllables hard
and straight.

"No, no--I said Morrison." The man looked as though he were going to
collapse then and there.

"One name's as good as another, I guess, ain't it?" went on the
detective. "Well, what's your business?"

"My business?" He was parrying as though seeking time to collect his
scattered wits. "Oh, I haven't any business--I've been sick lately."

"Oh, you've been sick lately--well, you look sick right now." Cassidy
shov