The Bridgeport evening farmer. [volume] (Bridgeport, Conn.) 1866-1917, 1913-10-28

poised a1ertly as if sensing some con-
cealed peril. Finally, however, his
anxiety found expression in words.
His tone was pregnant with alarm,
though he strove to make it merely
complaining.
E'Say, what am I arrested forF' he
protested. ct amt done anything
Burke did not look up, and his pen
continued to hurry over the paper.
'FWho told you you were arrested?''
he remarked cheerfully in his blandest
voice
Carson uttered an ejaculation of dis
gust.
'I don't have to be told" he retorted
hufhly- I'm no college president, but
when a cop grabs me and brings me
down here I've got sense enough to
know I'm pinched."
els that what they did to you, Joe?
I'll have to speak to Cassidy about
that Now, just you sit down, Joe,
won't you? 1 want to have a little
talk with you I'll be through here in
second" He went on with the writ
ing.
Carson moved forward slightly to
the single chair near the end of the
desk and there seated himself mechan-
fcally. His face thus was turned to-
ward the windows that gave on the
corridor, and his eyes grew yet more
c1ouded as they rested on the grim
doors of the cells. He writhed in his
chair, and his gaze jumped from the
cells to the impressive figure of the
man at the desk. Now the forger's
nervousness increased momenta11ly. 1t
swept beyond his control OF sud
den he sprang up and stepped close to
the inspector.
+Say," he said, in a husky voice, I'D
Hke-I'd like to have lawyer"
whats the matter with you, Joe?'
the inspector returned, always with
that imperturbabIe air, and without
raising his head from the work that
so engrossed his attention ''You
know, you're not arrested, Joe. Maybe
you never wiz be. Now, for the love
Of Mike, keep still and let me finish
this letter.
Slowly, very hesitatingIy, Carson
went back to the chair, and sank down
On it in a limp attitude of detection
wholly unlike his customary pOstures
of strength. Again, his fear fascinated
eyes went to the row of cells that stood
silently menacing on the other side of
the corridor beyond the windows. His
face was tnged with gray. A physical
sickness was creeping st.eelthfly on
him, as his thoughts held ins1stently
to the catastrophe that threatened. His
intelligence was too keen to permit a
belief that Burke's manner of almost
fulsome kindness hid nothing omin-
ous-ominous with a hint of death for
him in return for the death he had
wrought.
Then, terror crystallized. His eyes
were caught by figure, the figure Of
Cassidy, advancing there in the cor
ridor. And with the detective went a
man whose gait was sinking, craven.
A cell door swung open, the prisoner
stepped within, the door changed to,
the bolts shot into their sockets noisily.
Carson sat huddled, stricken-for he
had recognized the victim thrust into
the cell before his eyes It was Dacey,
one of his own cronfes in crime.
Dacey, who, the night before, had seen
him kill Eddie Griggs. There was
something concretely sinister to Gar
son in this fact of Dacey's presence
there in the cell.
OF. a sudden the forger cried out rau-
cously:-
"Say, inspector, if you've got any
thing on me, II would The cry
dropped into unintelligible mum blings.
Burke retained his manner of serene
Indifference to the others agitation.
Still, his pen hurried over the paper,
and he did not trouble to look up as
he expostulated, half banteringly.
"Now, now! What's the matter with
you, Joe? I told you that I wanted to
ask you, few questions. That's all.''
= But after a moment, Garson's emo
ton forced him to another appeal.
"SaV. inSDoCtOr''- he began
Then, abruptly, he was silent, his
mouth still open to utter the words
that were now held back by horror.
Again, he saw the detective walking
forward, out there in the corridor. And
with him, as before, was second fig
ure, which advanced slinkingly.
Again the door swung wide, the pris-
oner slipped within, the door changed
shut, the bolts clattered noisily into
their sockets.
And, in the watcher, terror grew
for he had seen the face of Chicago
Red, another of his pals, another who
had seen him Kill Griggs.E At last he
licked his dry lips, and his voice broke
In throaty whisper. s
''Say, inspector, if you've got any
thing against me, Why
"Who said there was anything
against you, Joe?'' Burke rejoined, in
voice that was genially Gliding.