You've
lived clean more'n seven years, an' you're free from the bulls. They
can't hold you."

"I haven't any warrant yet for you, Mrs. Pennold," observed Morrow,
imperturbably. "I admit that it's more than seven years since every
department-store detective was on the look-out for Left-handed Mame. I
believe you specialized in furs and laces, didn't you?"

"What's it to you? You can't lay a finger on me now!" the woman
stormed, defiantly.

"Not for shop-lifting or forgery--but how about receiving stolen
goods?"

The shot found an instant target. Walter Pennold slumped and crumpled
down into his chair, his arms outspread upon the table. He laid his
head upon them, and a single dry, shuddering sob tore its way from his
throat. The woman backed slowly away, and for the first time a shadow
as of approaching terror crossed her hard, challenging face.

"Stolen goods!" she repeated. "What are you tryin' to put over? Do
you think we're so green at the game that you can plant the goods here
an' get us put away on the strength of a past record? You're a--"

"Nothing like it!" Morrow leaned forward impressively. "We don't have
to do any planting, Mame. It's a good deal less than seven years since
the Mortimer Chase's silver plate lay in your cellar."

"Silver plate--in our cellar!" echoed Mame in genuine amazement.

She stepped forward again, her shrewish chin out-thrust, but Walter
Pennold raised his face, and at sight of it she stopped as if turned
to stone.

"It's no use!" he cried, brokenly. "They've got me, Mame!"

"Got you? They'll never get you!" her startled scream rang out.
"Wally, d'you know what the next term means? It's a lifer, on any
count! I don't know what he means about any silver plate, but it's a
bluff! Don't let him get your nerve!"

"Is it a bluff, Pennold?" asked Morrow, with dominant insistence.

The broken figure huddled in the chair shuddered uncontrollably.

"No, it ain't," he muttered. "I--I held out on you, Mame! I knew you
wouldn't risk it, so I didn't say nothin' to you about it, but the
money was too easy to let get by. The old gang offered me five hundred
bucks just to keep it ten days, and pass it on to Jennings. He came
here with a rag-picker's cart, you remember? You wondered what I was
givin' him, an' I told you it was some rolls of old carpet I got from
that place I was night watchman at, in Vandewater Street. I hid the
stuff under the coal--"

"Shut up!" cried Mame, fiercely.