This was the extent of Dennison's knowledge except the detail he called after them as they were leaving the room a little later.

"I say," he cried, rising in sudden recollection, "do you know any sort of a place that goes by the name of 'Gaffney's'?"

"No," replied the investigator over his shoulder. "Why?"

"I think that's where Burton was to meet the party—the one I just mentioned, you know. It just came to me."

On the street the big athlete said to Ashton-Kirk:

"Burton knew Big Slim, and had a little job framed up with him, eh? Well, that knocks me over, for sure."

"It's odd," said Ashton-Kirk, "how things seem to fall into place." Scanlon saw the light of speculation in the singular eyes, but made no comment. A little later the investigator went on: "That you should have this rather extraordinary experience of yours with Big Slim, and now—"

He paused, deep in thought; and as he did not resume, Bat said:

"Nora knows this crook; now we find that the Bounder knew him too; and they both have had dealings of some sort with him."

But Ashton-Kirk was deep in thought, and made no reply. They continued to walk on, the squares lengthening into miles; on the outskirts he suddenly stopped.

"Hello!" said he, looking about, rather surprisedly. "We're here, are we?"

"I thought I wouldn't disturb you, seeing that you seemed to be thrashing it out," said Scanlon.

The criminologist looked at his watch.

"There's a subway station only a little way from here," said he. "Let's get back. There's one or two things I want to do."

They boarded the train and as they neared the middle of the city the investigator said:

"I get off at the next station. If you don't mind, look up Big Slim once again and see what more you can learn from him. If there is anything, call me at eleven to-morrow; if I'm not there, leave word where you can be reached by wire."

"Right," said Mr. Scanlon.

Ashton-Kirk dropped off at the next station and vanished in the crowd; Bat held his place for several stations further; then he, too, alighted. Walking a few blocks, he came to the meaner sections; the buildings looked huddled and slovenly; dirty alleys ran between them; the smells were many and offensive. Leisurely he walked along a street crowded with low auction rooms, cheap variety places and establishments which provided a curious medley of food which a patron might consume while he stood up and listened to the nerve-tearing din of an automatic piano.

Away amidst a horde of other signs, the big athlete noted one bearing the Swiss coat of arms.

"Friend Bohlmier's hotel," Bat said to himself. "I may as well stop in and look around. Maybe the slim one is stirring."

The hotel, now that he saw it in daylight, was rather neat looking outside; the window glass shone; there was clean paint upon the doors and other woodwork; through the windows of the office plants were to be seen, growing greenly, in pots. The building was upon a corner; just around this, upon a rather more quiet street than the main one, was the door at which Nora's cab had stood the night before. And as Bat slowly took in the sinister aspects of the neighborhood, he marveled at what he had seen.

"A girl like Nora coming alone to a place like this in the night, and in this section of the city!" he exclaimed, mentally. "It's got me winging, I'll admit that."

With careless manner he strolled into the little sanded office. The Rhine Castles, in the prints upon the wall, still reared ruggedly from their hilltops; the Alpine goatherds looked exceedingly romantic and self-conscious as they posed against the backgrounds of their herds. The place was empty, however; and as Bat paused he heard a peculiarly hard and sliding sound. It was not a large sound; indeed it was quite small, but there was a slippery, deft regularity to it which caused the big athlete to catch and hold it, turning it over in his mind to come at its meaning. But in a few moments it stopped; there was a movement of feet upon the sanded floor, a chair was pushed back and a bald head appeared above the top of a screen.

"Ach!" said the voice of old Bohlmier. "It is you?"

"Yes," replied Bat, as he moved toward the screen. "Just thought I'd come in and see if my friend was around."

"Not yet," said the Swiss. "Not yet. He is neffer about much till the night dime. Eh?" Chuckling quaintly, the head disappeared and Scanlon reached the edge of the screen.

It was a cozily secluded corner, with a window facing upon the inner courtyard; geraniums stood in painted pots on shelves across the window; a rack of music was at one side; against the wall was an extemporized bookcase of stained wood which held an array of German books, worn, but prim and tight in their bindings. On a table lay a flat stone; and a small shining oil can stood near it. Bohlmier was now seated, a knife in his hand—a huge knife, with the blade ground and re-ground until it had arrived at a murderous narrowness; and he now held it up, looking placidly along its glimmering length through his rimmed spectacles.

"No," said he, and the shining bald head wagged in a sort of bland humor, "your friend does not care much for der day dimes." And then shifting a steady childlike stare upon the big man, he asked: "You haf nod known him long, is it?"

"Not very," replied Bat. "Only a short time."

Bohlmier nodded. Then he laid the thin blade against the stone upon the table, kissing it gently along its full length of edge. The man's breath seemed to hiss softly as the steel slipped across the stone; and as it turned deftly and came back, the hiss changed to a blissful, watery gurgling, thin and long drawn in. A prickling ran across Scanlon's scalp; he had the sensation of warm flesh being cleverly and slowly laid open with a razor-like blade which had sand upon its edge.

There was a cherubic smile upon the face of the old Swiss as he lifted the blade once more and ran his thumb down its length.

"Hah!" he said, "it is goot. I vill do no more."

Carefully, he wiped the knife and stone with a cloth and laid them aside. After this he polished his big spectacles and surveyed Bat minutely.

"You are a stranger in der city, I belief," stated he.

"I don't know much about it," replied Bat, and for this he eased his conscience with the reflection that few men did.

"It's a fine blace," said Bohlmier. "Der gelt is plenty, if a man der nerve haf." Here a canary in a small cage, hung high among the plants, began a long thrill, liquid and full. The Swiss smiled with pleased surprise. "Ah, rasgal!" admonished he, shaking one fond finger. "Is id not asleeb? Is dis der hour for enchoyments? Right away, now, der head under der ving, or to scold I vill begin."

The bird, as though understanding, ceased its song; then the man turned to Bat once more.

"Our friendt vill tell you some dings," said he. "He is an enterbrising man. It vill pay you to listen."

A little later Scanlon wandered into a large room, leading off from the office; the floor was sanded here, also; between two windows was a colored print in which William Tell refused to salute the symbol of tyranny, before a background of Alpine hills. There were heavy benches along the walls and some chairs scattered about, with a few bare, but thoroughly scrubbed tables upon which lay newspapers. The men who sat and smoked, or talked, or read in this room were peculiarly of a kind. Their dress was almost exactly similar, the stage of wear being the only difference. Each of them smoked a cigarette, nervously; each wore a cap which came well down to the ears and shoes which "humped" up suddenly at the toes. They had the furtive manners which become habitual in the shaded section of a big city; their eyes were quick and cold and always inquiring.

Bat took a seat at a window, and also lighted a cigarette.

"My make-up is fair," thought he, complacently, "and now, with the cigarette going, no one would doubt that I had been working under cover for years."

He read a newspaper and smoked for the better part of an hour; the light had dimmed and the old Swiss had turned on the gas; then Big Slim, narrow shouldered and stooping, came into the room with his peculiar slinking gait.

"Hello!" greeted Scanlon, as he got up. "I've just been wondering if I was going to see you."

"Was out with a friend of mine looking over some new work," said the burglar, with a grin. "You gotta keep after business if you expect to get any of it."

"Had anything to eat?" asked Bat.

"Not yet. Let's go around to Joey Loo's."

The two left the hotel, and passed through a tangle of narrow, forlorn looking streets; then they turned into a cellar opening, with dirty wooden steps and a glass-paneled door upon which was painted some Chinese characters in brilliant red. The warm, moist breath of oriental cookery was thick around them as they sat down at one of the small tables, and Scanlon looked about. Some patrons of both sexes were already there; the women were dejected, or hard; here and there were seen a few who were merely vacant. The men were of the meagre, pallid type, nervous of action and furtive of eye. Stoical Chinamen, with soft-falling feet, carried food about.

"Great chow in this dump," said Big Slim. "I spotted it one night when I was edging away from a 'bull.' The Chinks can cook, and that's more than you can say of a lot of the other folks who take it into their heads to run eating places."

A fat Chinaman with a smiling face and a greasy blouse came up to them, and the burglar began pointing out to Bat the high points of the cuisine. When they had given their orders Big Slim rolled a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. A newspaper which lay upon the table caught his eye and he grinned derisively.

"Gee," said he, "the cops are the solidest chunks of ivory I ever seen. Some of the things you read about them doing are screams."

"What now?" asked Bat, the gleam in the green eyes of the other interesting him.

Big Slim chuckled, and his shifty look went from Scanlon to the region round about them, and then back again.

"There was a fellow shoved off the other night—out in the suburbs—maybe you saw something about it? Well, the bulls made an awful mess of that. I never seen them fall down so hard before—and believe me, that's saying something."

"That was the Burton case, wasn't it? I've been following it a little," said Bat.

Big Slim took a deep draught from the cigarette and then flung it away. Slowly he exhaled the smoke; and then sat looking at his companion, and cracking the joints of his bony fingers.

"That guy Burton was a slick one," said he, admiringly. "You gotta hand him that."

"You knew him, did you?" said Bat.

"A little. He done the swell mobs. Society people and gambling were other things he worked at. And it's been whispered more than once that he was handy with a pen."

"Nice work," said Bat. "But dangerous."

"About the best things he pulled were his get-aways," said Big Slim. "The cops never got anything on him, and he'd been fooling with the edge of the law for years. His son did not inherit any of the 'Bounder's' talent; for here he is waiting on the grand jury, charged with pushing the old man over the edge." The burglar chuckled, highly entertained. "The cops are a fine gang when you start 'em right," said he. "And when they do get a thing, you got to put it where they'll almost fall over it."

The fat Chinaman brought the food ordered, and set it before them with a comfortable air of appreciation.

"Good!" stated he. "Vel' fine."

When he had departed and they began to test his statement, Bat spoke carelessly:

"Is it your idea that young Burton didn't have a hand in this thing?"

Big Slim blew at the steam ascending from a dish of rice.

"Sure not," said he. "I seen that guy lots of times; he's as soft as mush. You couldn't get him to bump anybody that way on a bet."

"Funny!" said Bat. "Who could have done it?"

Big Slim shook his head with the air of one who could talk eloquently if he would. For a time they ate their food in silence; then the burglar resumed:

"You know what I told you last night about the phony fighter, Allen? How I expected to turn a trick that'd get me a roll, and be able to put it up for him in that match?"

"Yes," said Bat, interested.

"I've been doing work all over the United States for a good many years," stated the burglar, "and I've run into some funny jobs. But this one had them all faded. You could start a thousand times and never fall like I did that time."

"Tough!" Bat nodded sagely. "A fellow remembers those things."

"I'll remember that one, all right," promised the other. "Don't let that worry you."

"Diamonds, I think you said." The big athlete looked appreciative, and labored with the Asiatic cookery.

"Some of them were as big as that," and Big Slim grouped some grains of rice upon the edge of his plate. "Not bad, eh?"

"Extra special," replied the big athlete, promptly. "Diamonds like that are only to be mentioned with great respect."

"It was one of the easiest kind of tricks to turn," said the burglar. "A woman had 'em—but I think I told you that. She wore 'em every night—and I framed the whole thing so that it couldn't fail. She lives up town, and gets home about the same time every night There was a scaffolding up the side of the house—right under her window."

Bat laughed and reached for a salt shaker with a great assumption of carelessness.

"It might have been built for you, eh?" said he. "Easy is right."

"I slipped up the scaffolding before she got home," said Big Slim, drifting, perhaps, unconsciously into the narrative. "And I was outside when she came into the room. She pulled down the blind, and then I moved over right under the window. The blind wasn't all the way down; so I laid fiat on the boards, and could see into the room."

Bat made an indefinite sort of noise down in his throat; perhaps the burglar fancied it indicated interest; at any rate he went on:

"She stood for a while, thinking. Then she begins to take off the diamonds. There was a box there, to put them in—all open and ready.

"'Fine,' thinks I, to myself. 'When they are all gathered up nice and safe, that's when I'll reach for them—then I'll be sure to have them all.'

"She was still taking them off—out of her hair, from her breast, from around her neck; then suddenly she stopped and stood still, as though she'd heard something and was listening. And then the door opens and in walks a man, all smiling and smooth, and takes off his hat."

"I see—a man she knows?"

"Her husband," said Big Slim. "Her husband that she don't live with, and believe me, she wasn't any way tickled to see him. I couldn't hear much, but every now and then I got a word or so, and was able to string the thing together. He was broke, and wanted money. She wouldn't give up. He threatened her; but she called him, strong. Then he hits her and grabs the diamonds, and was off."

"And you were left!" said Bat, displaying a grin which cost him some effort.

"Left flat!" The lank burglar pulled at his fingers until the joints cracked. "He took the whole lay-out right from under my nose."

"What did you do then?" asked Bat.

"For a couple of seconds I hung fire," said Big Slim. "I had it in my mind to jump into the room, follow, and lay him out. But a better plan came to me. Why not skim down the scaffold, and get the lad as he left the house with the stuff?"

"Good!" said Bat. "That's it!"

"That's what I done," said the burglar, "and as I was slipping down, I framed it for the guy. I wouldn't hold him up in front of the house; there were too many lights and too many chances to take. I'd wait till I got him in a street that was darker, and had more get-aways."

"What about the woman?" asked Bat. "Was she hurt much?"

"No," replied Big Slim. "While I was thinking what I'd do—after the fellow blew with the diamonds, I was still looking into the room. She held her hand to her face for a moment as if it'd hurt her pretty bad; then she took it away, and"—here the speaker grinned widely—"well, maybe it was a good thing for friend husband that he wasn't there just then. She'd a look on her face that was equal to anything."

"Humph!" said Bat. "I don't wonder."

"And she didn't take it all out in looks," said Big Slim, with the grin still upon his cadaverous face. "I seen her burst right out wild; she pulled open a drawer and took out something—I couldn't see just what it was, but I caught a shine from it and I'd bet my head it was a gun. She put it in her breast; then she grabs up her wraps and things and tears out of the room."

"After him!" Bat stared at the other, a feeling of weakness creeping over him.

"Like a shot. When I got to the bottom of the scaffold I stayed in the shadows till he came out; when he got a little distance away, I was just going to follow, when the door opened again and she came out."

"And she dogged him," said Bat. "You are sure of that, are you?"

"Sure?" Big Slim chuckled as he looked at Bat, his head nodding affirmatively. "I should say I am. It was a double shadow. There she goes, down the street after him; and there I am, after her, just as nice as you please."