“Most assuredly I do,” was my prompt reply, and I took no pains to repress the indignation I felt at the mere suggestion of betraying Hughes. “Do you think I’m a squealer too?” “We don’t want to send him to prison!” hastily explained Radford. “All we want is our usual percentage.” “Well,” said I, the hot blood stinging my cheeks, “I’ll let you fellows know that I’m no Bill Brockway; and if you find the man you’re after, it will be on the level so far as I’m concerned.” I said this in a manner that left no doubt in their minds as to my sincerity. I also let them know that Brockway’s squealing propensities were well known to me. I had begun to learn a great deal of the crook’s life in a very short time, it seemed to me. “That was a fine hand you played against Billy Matthews,” I went on. “If you’re going to deal with crooks, I’d advise you to be on the square, and you’ll succeed better.” At this George Radford looked at me peculiarly, as though he thought that I knew more than I was telling. Jack McCord, in an attempt to put himself in as level an attitude as possible, but failing, said:-- “We fellers have to get at things the best way we can, and, as you must know, we’re not in the police business for our health.” Swallowing my disgust, and feeling that I, even I, a bank burglar, was contaminating myself in the same atmosphere with these treacherous rascals, I said good night and hurried away, glad to get rid of them. But I saw them again, and sooner than I had hoped, for I never wanted to look on their faces after that night. But this feeling wore off in time. Billy Matthews sought me out a week later, and said, with considerable earnestness, that I must meet Jack McCord, who had news for me of the utmost importance; that I must meet him at the Metropolitan Hotel, and if he wasn’t there, to wait until he came. Not daring to disregard this word, which amounted to a command, I went to the hotel, where McCord appeared a few minutes later. Calling me aside, he whispered, “You’re a very lucky man, White, and you’ll realize before we get through that it is a Godsend you came to know us fellers.” “Why?” I asked; “what’s in the wind? Some one from New Hampshire here?” “No; but a crook in that Ohio Bank job has squealed on you, and there’s a Cadiz sheriff in town with a complete description of you and Eddie Hughes, who escaped with you.” This was startling though not unexpected news, as I knew that Utley had no love for me. No doubt he had tried to get further clemency in prison by squealing on Hughes and me. I asked McCord if there was anything further he could tell. “Yes; Utley told the sheriff that the man with Hughes was called George, but the last name he did not know. He described an overcoat ‘George’ wore that was left in the Scott House in Pittsburg.” At this I smiled, and McCord wondering why, I told him.