"North Ninetieth Street Police Station," said Eames rapidly. "I picked up a clue over on the other side of the city--inside police dope. Man taken there last night in taxi. I'm off for there." Feehan pocketed his statistics and prepared for action. His voice had ceased to drag. He uttered commands in sharp, quick words. Briefly he detailed to each man as he called on the telephone the nature of Eames's discovery. "Get to North Ninetieth Street Station." Thirty-five minutes after Eames flashed the first word to the office, Cramer, the star police reporter, announced over the telephone. "McCarthy is in the black hole at North Ninetieth street. Orders from captain. No one permitted to see him. Not booked. Sergeant in charge don't know what he is accused of." "Get him out. Report in ten minutes." "Two hours and a half to get him out and put him on that train," Feehan muttered. It was twelve minutes before Cramer called again. "Sergeant says he dares not turn the fellow loose. Don't know he is McCarthy. Says orders are strict to keep him and to keep everyone away from him." "Is he hurt?" "Turnkey says he has cut in head and bruised, but all right." "Pound him--pound the sergeant; make him act. Scare him! Who is the captain?" "Raferty." "I'll reach him by 'phone." Feehan hung up the receiver. "Joe," he said to the night man, "raise Minette, the office lawyer. Lives somewhere up that way. His home is only a short distance from Judge Manasse's house. Ask him for a writ of habeas corpus or something." Feehan was rapidly calling numbers. In fifteen minutes he had aroused Captain Raferty. "Raferty," said the little man, "sorry to disturb you, but you've got a man in the black hole in your station that we want." "Can't be done. Orders to hold him." "Orders from whom?" "Higher up." "How high?" "None of your business." "Raferty, I'm going to the top," said Feehan quickly. "If that man isn't out by six o'clock, you'll be broken." "What's all this fuss about some skate?" Raferty was alarmed. "It ain't any of my business. I'm told to hold him and not book him and I do it. What have you got it in for me for?" "You'd better get to the station and get that man out or you'll have this sheet all over you," threatened Feehan, transformed. "I'm going higher now." He cut off the spluttering police captain in the midst of a snarling complaint, half whine, half defiance. Half an hour of hard work brought the indignant superintendent of police to the telephone. He curtly declined to interfere, denied all knowledge of any such prisoner, and hung up the receiver while Feehan was expostulating with him. The mild mannered, gentle little reporter was rising to the emergency. He wiped his forehead free from the beads of sweat and looked at his watch. It was two minutes to five when the night man reported again.