The taxi slackened its pace as it approached the police station and Baldwin climbed out under the lights that marked it as the home of the paid guardians of the people's rights and liberties. "Don't fall down this time," warned the gambler. "If this don't go through, the newspapers will have some fine information to print in the next few days." "I'll fix it, Ed, I'll frame it all right," replied Baldwin nervously. The mention of his name and the imposing manner he had assumed won for him immediate entrance to the captain's private room, and after ten minutes of earnest conversation, Baldwin emerged, the gray-haired official with the gilt stars and chevrons escorting him and shaking hands with him at the street door. "Don't forget, Raferty," said Baldwin importantly. "I want him kept close until I can get the proof we need. Don't let any lawyers or reporters get near him and keep your cops from gossiping. You won't lose anything by it, Raferty. Drop down and see me sometime. I'd like to talk the political situation over with you. You understand?" Meantime the taxicab, with Edwards inside, had raced across the upper portion of the city to the place where Big Jack was pacing the shadowy part of the sidewalk half a block from Baldwin's home. "He hasn't come out yet," Jack reported, stepping into the light as the taxi slowed down and crept along near the gutter. "Jump in," said Edwards. "Run over across the street, and step in the shadow there," he ordered the chauffeur. "There he comes now, out the gate. Follow him." Five minutes later McCarthy stepped into the trap laid by the gambler and, ten minutes after he lurched out of the machine, he was carried half unconscious, into the basement door of the police station and deposited roughly upon the bench in the "cozy corner." CHAPTER XXV _McCarthy Disappears_ Silent Swanson was jabbing billiard balls around the table as if venting his irritability upon the innocent spheres of ivory. "Why so cruel to the relics of departed generations of ball players?" inquired Kennedy, who was cuddled up in cushioned settee watching. "Waiting for Kohinoor." "Where has he gone?" inquired Kennedy carelessly. "Skirting again," explained Swanson. "He ought to be back before long," added Swanson, jabbing the balls harder and stopping to look at his watch. "It's five past ten now, and he said he'd cut the call short." "Think any sane guy would quit a pretty girl to spend an evening with you?" inquired Kennedy insultingly, having decided to wile away the time by ragging his big teammate. "I've a hunch something is wrong with Kohinoor," said Swanson. "He told me he'd break away early and shoot me some billiards before train time. He didn't say just when, but I expected him back by ten." "Why don't you sue him for divorce if he neglects you?" suggested Kennedy, again seeking to start an argument. Swanson consulted his watch with gloomy foreboding and declined to engage in repartee.