nged straight into the heart of his
subject.

"This office is at present carrying on a campaign against Richard
Penfield, the poolroom operator and gambler."

The district-attorney put down his paper.

"This office is carrying on a campaign against every lawbreaker brought
to its attention," he corrected, succinctly. Then he caught up another
type-written sheet. "How much have you lost?" he asked over his
shoulder.

"I'm not a gambler," retorted Durkin as crisply. His earlier timidity
had faded away, and more and more he felt the relish of this adventure
with the powers that were opposing him.

"I suppose not--but how much were your losses?"

"I've lost nothing!" Durkin was growing impatient of this curtly
condescending tone. It was the ponderosity of officialdom, he felt,
grown playful, in the face of a passing triviality.

The district-attorney turned over the card which had been brought in to
him, with a deprecating uplift of the eyebrows.

"Most of the people who come here to talk about Penfield and his
friends come to tell me how much they've lost." He leaned back, and
sent a little cloud of cigarette smoke ceilingward. "And, of course,
it's part of this office's duty to keep a fool and his money
together--as long as possible. What is it I can do for you?"

"I want your help to get a woman out of Penfield's new downtown house!"

"What woman?"

"She is--well, she is a very near friend of mine! She's being held a
prisoner there!"

"By the police?"

"No, by certain of Penfield's men."

"What men?"

"MacNutt, the wire tapper, is one of them!"

"And you would like us to get after MacNutt?"

"Yes, I would!"

"On the charge of wire tapping?"

"That should be one of them!"

"Then I can only refer you to the decision of the Court of Appeals in
the McCord case, and the Appellate Division's reversal of the
'green-goods' conviction of 1900! In other words, sir, there is no law
under which a wire tapper can be prosecuted."

"But it's not a conviction I want, as much as the woman. I want to
save _her_."

"Is she a respectable woman?"

Durkin felt that his look was answer enough.

"Is she a frequenter of poolrooms?"

Durkin hesitated, this time, and weighed his answer.

"I don't think so."

"She's not a frequenter?"

"No!"

"Some rather nice women are, you know, at times!"

"She may have been, once, I suppose, but I know not recently."

"Ah! I see! And what do you want us to