"I see," said Cal quietly. "Then you'd rather have your customers tell on you?" As the little man whirled upon him, Cal continued quickly: "Now listen, Jake. I think you're going to help me get Grayson and his friends clear of this mess, and I'll tell you why." "For vy?" questioned the little man barely above a whisper that suggested the hiss of a snake. CHAPTER XIV Brought to Book "Because, Jake, old boy," replied Cal Yates to the man's question, "I happen to know where Sandy Podder and his friends got those hip flasks. And what's more important, oh, much more important, Jake! I know where they got the contents of those flasks and where they or anybody else, if they give the password, can get a lot more of the same stuff whenever they like." Cal leaned back in his chair and met the furious stare of the little man with a laugh. "Honest now, Jake," he said, "you wouldn't want me to tell all I know about this place, would you?" The proprietor's face was a study. It turned a yellowish-green. He was clearly flabbergasted. "I keep a respec'able place," he muttered. "I grant it's much better than the general run of roadhouses. For one thing, the food is excellent," replied Cal. "But all the same, Jake, none of your customers have been known to die of thirst. I know what's in the tea cups on the tables. My eyes are good and so is my nose. Now get me right. I've no desire to poke my nose into your business. But I'm out to see justice done to Garry Grayson here, and I'm going to do it if it takes a leg or takes your license." The greasy face grew still moister with perspiration at the mention of the word "license." "Und it's me dot thought you vos a friend ov mine," Jake wailed. "Und now you drying to ruin mine bisness." "Nothing of the kind, Jake," denied Cal. "There are worse fellows than you. I've got some mighty good meals in this place. I'm not asking you to do anything that isn't right. I'm just asking you to help get my friend out of a mess. You know it isn't right that any one should be framed." "No," admitted Jake, "I vouldn't frame no one mineself. But vot udders do I cannot help. Who iss dis young feller dot I should get mixed up in his drubbles?" "I'll tell you who he is," replied Cal. "He's the son of a lawyer, Joseph S. Grayson of Lenox. Do you know him?" "Der vun what sent Gyp Mooney to jail?" exclaimed Jake. "The same," assented Cal. "And the one who closed up Gyp's poolroom," he added significantly. "Oh, he's a wonder at closing up places when he gets started. I'd hate to have him close up yours, Jake." The perspiration now stood in great beads on Jake's brow, and his hands closed and unclosed nervously. "Listen!" he said. "I vould help dis Grayson, who seems to be a nice young feller, but vot kin I do? Vot do I know about dose hip flasks? I seen dem here, yes. Mine customers bring dem vid dem. But vot does dot prove about der framing?"