at I was to tell you everything I
could about these boys."

"I'm sure we all appreciate that," Malone said at random, wondering
exactly what he meant.

"There is ... well, there is one more thing," Kettleman said.
"Ordinarily, of course, I wouldn't say anything about this to anyone. In
my line of work, Mr. Malone, you learn the need for confidence. For
being able to keep one's word."

"Certainly," Malone said, wondering what startling new fact was on its
way now.

"And we certainly try to keep the confidence of the boys," Kettleman
said maddeningly. "We wouldn't betray them to the police in any way
unless it were absolutely necessary."

"Betray them--? Mr. Kettleman," Malone said, "just what are you trying
to tell me?"

"It's about their meeting place," Kettleman said. "Oh, my. I'm not at
all sure I ought to tell you this." He wrung his pale fat hands together
and looked at Malone appealingly.

"Now, now," Malone said, feeling foolish. "It's perfectly all right. We
don't want to hurt the Spooks. Not any more than we have to. You can
tell me, Mr. Kettleman."

"Oh," Kettleman said. "Well. I--The Spooks do have a sort of secret
meeting place, you know. And they meet there."

He stopped. Malone said: "Where is it?"

"Oh, it's a big empty warehouse," Kettleman said. "I really feel
terrible about this. They're meeting there tonight some time, or that's
what the rumors say. I shouldn't be telling you--"

"Of course you should," Malone said, trying to sound reassuring. "Don't
worry about a thing, Mr. Kettleman. Tonight?"

"That's right," Kettleman said eagerly. He grinned and then looked
morosely down at his hands.

"Do you know where this warehouse is?" Malone said. "If any of the other
little social groups use it--"

"Oh, no, they don't," Kettleman said. "That's what makes it so funny.
You see, the warehouse is deserted, but it's kept in good repair; there
are bars on the windows, and it's protected by all sorts of alarm
systems and things like that. So none of the others can use it. Only the
Spooks. You can't get in without a key, not at all."

"But do the Spooks--" Malone began.

"Oh, no," Kettleman moaned. "They don't have a key. At least, that's
what the other ... social groups say. The Spooks just ... just melt
through the walls, or something like that."

"Mr. Kettleman," Malone said, "where is this warehouse?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Kettleman said.

Malone sighed. "Please. Mr. Kett