but I will be lenient with you, for one reason. Contrary to
everything that I would have expected, you are really trying to
save that poor half-witted girl whom you love from the terrible
habit that has gripped you. That is why you held out the quarter
of the one hundred tablets. That is why you wrote the note to Mrs.
Sutphen, hoping that she might be treated in some institution."

Kennedy paused as a look of incredulity passed over Armstrong's
face.

"Another thing you said was true," added Kennedy. "You can get all
the heroin you want. Armstrong, you will put the address of that
place on the outside of the note, or both you and Whitecap go to
jail. Snowbird will be left to her own devices--she can get all
the 'snow,' as some of you fiends call it, that she wants from
those who might exploit her."

"Please, Mr. Kennedy," pleaded Armstrong.

"No," interrupted Craig, before the drug fiend could finish. "That
is final. I must have the name of that place."

In a shaky hand Armstrong wrote again. Hastily Craig stuffed the
note into his pocket, and ten minutes later we were mounting the
steps of a big brownstone house on a fashionable side street just
around the corner from Fifth Avenue.

As the door was opened by an obsequious colored servant, Craig
handed him the scrap of paper signed by the password, "A Victim."