ke, and brought with it the steaming smell of
prison cooking, the sounds of the caged underworld, the sense of life
all around him dwarfed and warped to twisted moral purposes. A warden
came with breakfast--a lukewarm, muddy liquid he called coffee and a
stew in which potatoes and bits of fat beef bobbed like life buoys--and
Clay ate heartily while his cell mate favored him, between gulps, with
a monologue on ethics, politics, and the state of society, as these
related especially to Shiny the Shover. Lindsay was given to
understand that the whole world was "on de spud," but the big crooks
had fixed the laws so that they could wear diamonds instead of stripes.

Presently a guard climbed the iron stairway with a visitor and led the
way along the deck outside the tier of cells where Clay had been put.

"He's in seventy-four, Mr. Durand," the man said as he approached.
"I'll have to beat it. Come back to the office when you're ready."

The ex-pugilist had come to gloat over him. Clay knew it at once. His
pupils narrowed.

He was lying on the bed, his supple body stretched at graceful ease.
Not by the lift of an eyelid did he recognize the presence of his enemy.

Durand stood in front of the cell, hands in pockets, the inevitable
unlit black cigar in his mouth. On his face was a sneer of malevolent
derision.

Shiny the Shover bustled forward, all complaisance.

"Pleased to meet youse, Mr. Durand."

The gang politician's insolent eyes went up and down him. "I didn't
come to see _you_."

"'S all right. Glad to see youse, anyhow," the counterfeit passer went
on obsequiously. "Some day, when you've got time I'd like to talk wit'
youse about gettin' some fall money."

"Nothin' doin', Shiny. I'm not backin' you," said Jerry coldly.
"You've got to go up the river."

"Youse promised--"

"Aw, what the hell's eatin' you?"

Shiny's low voice carried a plaintive whine. "If you'd speak to de
judge--"

"Forget it." Durand brushed the plea away with a motion of his hand.
"It's your cell pal I've come to take a look at--the one who's goin' to
the chair."

With one lithe movement Clay swung down to the floor. He sauntered
forward to the grating, his level gaze full on the ward boss.

"Shiny, this fellow's rotten," he said evenly and impersonally. "He's
not only a crook, but he's a crooked crook. He'd throw down his own
brother if it paid him."

Durand's cruel lips laughed. "Your pal's a little worried th