softly. "I've been here in the room all the time. I want to know whether
you were stalling on Slimmy Jack, or not. And I want to know, if you
_were_ stalling, how you came to be here with him."

"That's a queer spiel," said Birdie Lee, in a troubled way. "I thought
at first you were a bull--but you don't talk like one. Mabbe you're
playin' with me; but, whether you are or not, I guess it won't make much
difference what I say. You couldn't help me if you wanted to now--with
him dead there"--he jerked his head toward the form on the floor.

"Tell me, anyhow," insisted Jimmie Dale quietly.

Birdie's hand lifted and swept across his eyes.

"Well, all right," he said, after a moment; "I'll tell you. Me and
Slimmy used to work together all the time in Chicago and out West after
I left New York, and until I came back here one day and pulled one
alone and got sent up for it. Well, to-day, when they let me out of
Sing Sing, Slimmy had come on from Chicago and was waitin' for me. He
had a deal all fixed in Chicago that we was to pull together, a big
one, and this little one here was to keep us goin' until the big one
came off. He was with Malay John in this room to-day when a gambler
from up the State somewhere blew in with a roll of about three thousand
dollars, and handed it over to Malay to keep while he knocked around
town for a day or two. Malay put the money in this safe here, and
that's what Slimmy was after for a starter. I told Slimmy I was all
through--that I was goin' straight. He wouldn't believe me. I guess you
don't. I guess nobody will. I got a record that's mabbe too black to
live down, and--oh, well, what's the use! I meant to live decent, but I
guess any chance I had is gone now." His voice choked. "That's the way