“Well, what of it?” said Patsy. “Didn’t you say,” said Spike, “dat there was some dollars for me if I could get something for you?” “Yes,” replied Patsy, “that’s what I said.” “You said it was a leather case, with somethin’ into it what you wanted; ain’t dat right?” “See here, Spike,” said Patsy, “what are you getting to?” “I want to git dem dollars you was talkin’ about,” said Spike. “Dere’s been nothin’ doin’ for me dis long time, and I’m broke. So if you give me de right steer, I’m goin’ for dem dollars.” “Well,” said Patsy, “all there is of it is that a leather case, with some things in it, was taken out of that house in Thirty-fifth Street last night. The man from whom it was taken will put up good money to have it back.” “Who is he?” “His name is Herron, and he lives in that house.” “What does he do downtown?” “Oh, he’s a broker or something in Broad Street.” “Say, I want ter git de rights of dis,” said Spike, in a businesslike way. “I’m givin’ it ter you as much as I know.” “Well, what was in de case? Money, checks? What?” “Why,” said Patsy, “as I understand it, it was some drawings and a model of a new invention, which is valuable.” “Well, wasn’t his nibs tryin’ to rob the inventor of it?” asked Spike, shrewdly. “The inventor is dead,” said Patsy, wondering where Spike got all his knowledge from. “Den it was his widder?” said Spike. “See here, Spike,” said Patsy, “what is this you’re givin’ me? What I know is that Mr. Herron paid the widder his good money for those things, and that they were stolen from him. Now, Spike, it was you who put it into my head from the first that a swell cracksman from Philadelphia, Lannigan, cracked the crib and took that case.” “Dat’s right,” repeated Spike. “Then you give it me that when you ran against Lannigan he wouldn’t cough up and let you in.” “Dat’s right,” repeated Spike. “Now I’m goin’ to speak a little piece,” said Patsy. “Spike, you have seen Lannigan since I saw you last, and you’ve got into the job.” “You’re away off, Patsy,” said Spike. “I don’t think I am,” said Patsy. “Lannigan has let you into the job, and you’re tryin’ to pump me as to who will give up the best for that case.” “Oh, yer away off, Patsy,” repeated Spike; “ain’t he, Bally?” The crook turned to the other one for confirmation of his words, which was readily given. “Mebbe I am,” replied Patsy, “but if it isn’t that, what is your little game?” “I am just tryin’ to loin a little somet’in’ to see if I can’t work dat bloke, Lannigan, for a show at dem dollars.” All this seemed to be very plausible on the part of Spike, and was said with a very frank manner. But Patsy was not deceived. He knew something had occurred since he had last seen Spike, but just what it was he was not able to tell.