more--_unless I have to_. It might put you in bad. You can make your
reports and get your orders through Whitie Karn at his dance hall."

"Whitie Karn!" The exclamation seemed to come involuntarily, in a quick,
frightened way from Smarlinghue.

Clancy's lips twisted in a smile.

"Kind of a jolt--eh--Smarlinghue? You didn't suspect he was one of _us_,
did you?--and there's more than Whitie Karn. Well, it will teach you to
be careful. Suppose Whitie, for instance, passed the word that you were
a snitch--eh? It won't do you any harm to keep that in mind once in a
while." He moved over to the door. "Well, good-night, Smarlinghue! I
guess you understand, don't you? You ought to be a pretty valuable man,
and I expect a lot from you. If I don't get it--" He shrugged his
shoulders, held Smarlinghue for an instant with half-closed, threatening
eyes--and then the door closed behind him.

Smarlinghue did not move. The steps receded from the door, and died away
along the passage. A minute, two minutes went by. Suddenly Smarlinghue
pushed back the wristband of his shirt, and pricked the skin with the
needle of the hypodermic. The door, without a sound, swung wide open.
Clancy stood in the doorway.

"Good-night again, Smarlinghue," he said coolly.

The hypodermic fell clattering to the floor; Smarlinghue jumped
nervously in his chair.

Clancy laughed--significantly; and, without closing the door this time,