“Best single asset the police have is Monahan,” said Lanagan, apropos of nothing in particular. “Knows more about the night life of this city than any four men in it. But he tips nothing that might hurt his own game or his own people. In a way he preserves a certain code even while acting as a police ‘stool.’ In this matter, however, the invaluable Mr. Monahan is working for Jack Lanagan; and the police are consequently about three laps behind. “I see nothing in sight for some hours. We will eat our dinner and take in a show for a few moments. I rather anticipate a climax later and some rapid-fire work for us both on the typewriter. I need a little stimulus--that hasn’t got wormwood in it.” He would give me absolutely not a line on his “lay.” He could be a baffling, enigmatic, impersonal proposition when he took the humour. We headed for the Oyster Loaf, and I groaned for the four and a half that was between me and pay day as Lanagan methodically disposed of an onion soup, special; French mushrooms on toast, a New York cut, Gorgonzola, and a two-bit cigar. He drank three glasses of ice water, but that didn’t cost anything. “A man’s meal,” he said with vast creature content. “Now give me that other half you have left. I want a shave. You go up and touch Dan for a five-spot. We may need expenses later. I’ll meet you at Dan’s at nine o’clock. I want to pick Monahan up again before I see you, and also see Leslie.” At the time appointed we met. “Let’s take a ten-twenty-thirty,” suggested Lanagan. “By half-past ten we will have to get busy. There’s a singer over at the Continental that some of the dramatic critics say has real fire. La Pattini, I think she is called.” So we drifted into the Continental and caught part of the performance. There were trained birds of more than ordinary sagacity; the stereotyped and fearful cornet soloist; the girl singer, La Pattini, with a wonderful mezzo, remarkable beauty, an undoubted future, and an ability to sing the “Rosary” in a manner to bring tears. Then came a slap-stick tumbling act that was impossible, and we left. Lanagan had suddenly become thoughtful. “Do you know what I think?” he said. “I think the world would actually do better to sweep away every vestige of law and ordinance and make a clean start again. Our system of punishment is all wrong. Take one heinous class of crimes; we punish the individual who takes upon herself to punish. We say the State has the power of punishment and the prerogative; and yet in the very crimes that are the most damnable, the State can never interfere because the injured party must suffer in silence. You might as well expect children to learn English through hieroglyphics as to make applicable to present-day conditions the antiquated penal code to which society is harnessed. That’s about enough of the sermon stuff. It’s not in my line.”