clean-shaven, sharp-featured man stepped into the room, slammed the door
shut behind him, re-locked it, and swept a shrewd, inquisitive,
suspicious glance about the place.

"It took you a damned long time to open that door, _Mister_
Smarlinghue!" he said sharply.

The man addressed touched his lips with the tip of his tongue nervously,
shrank back, and made no reply.

The lapel of the visitor's coat thrown carelessly back displayed a
police shield on the vest beneath; and now, completing a preliminary
survey of the surroundings, the man's eyes narrowed on Smarlinghue.

"I guess you know who I am, don't you? Heard of me perhaps, too--eh?
Clancy of headquarters is my name!" He laughed menacingly, unpleasantly.

Smarlinghue's clothes were threadbare and ill-fitting; his coat was a
size too small for him, and from the short sleeves protruded blatantly
the frayed and soiled wristbands of his shirt. He twined his hands
together anxiously, and retreated further back into the room.

"I haven't done anything, honest to God, I haven't!" he whined.

"Ain't, eh?" The other laughed again. "No, of course not! Nobody ever
did! But now I'm here--just dropped in socially, you know--I'll have a
look around."

He began to move about the room. Smarlinghue, still twining his hands in
a helpless, frightened way, still circling his lips nervously with the