As they trooped into the room, Marlin caught a glimpse of a dark passageway. The unmistakable earthy smell of a mine shaft or tunnel reached his nostrils. They were a nondescript group. At first glance, three of the newcomers had appeared to be men. Marlin saw now that one was a woman. She had a bulbous nose, bleary red eyes, and a scar that twisted one corner of her mouth into the semblance of a grin. Her gaunt figure was swathed in a dingy robe. One of the men was powerful and well-knit--he looked to be a match for Marlin himself. The other was wizened and under-sized, with a shrewd, weasel face. Strands of greasy hair overhung his eyes, forcing him to cock his head like a poodle in order to see. Both men had made shift to pull their trousers over their underwear before putting in an appearance. In contrast to these was the fourth--a girl of perhaps eighteen with a sweetly innocent face framed in a shimmering halo of golden hair. In her long white robe she was a vision of ethereal loveliness. The eyes of Marlin and McGruder instinctively fastened upon her. * * * * * The woman with the twisted grin cackled. "Look your fill, smarties, for that's all you'll get. Pearl ain't for the likes of you, so don't get ideas." The weasel-faced man sidled forward, extending a clammy hand. "Wukkum to our dump," he said ingratiatingly. "Meet the gang. My name's Link--Percival B. Link for the blotter, Slinky Link to my frien's." He jerked a thumb toward the woman. "Maw Barstow. This overgrown hunk of meat is Bart DuChane, alias Chaney the Great. Just finished doing a stretch for manslaughter. Oughta stuck to his crystal gazing." The eyes of the man thus introduced glittered venomously, but his lips forced a smile. He spoke in a controlled voice. "I might suggest that people who discuss others too freely sometimes meet with accidents." Marlin studied him with a sense of taking the measure of an adversary. "My name is Dave Marlin," he acknowledged. "Who's your frien's?" demanded Link. The detective replied, nodding toward the girl who had worn the handcuffs. "Sally Camino--slickest floozie in the con-game racket. My name's McGruder. D. A.'s office," he added significantly. Link peered through his thatch of hair. "McGruder," he said reflectively. "Ain't you the Len McGruder that was kicked off the force in Columbus for hijacking? Sure! I know you!" Marlin swung on the detective. "You're no law officer," he said. "Let's see that badge." "Keep your hands offa me!" the detective snarled, clutching his coat. Sally Camino faced him in sudden fury. "You rat!" she spat at him. "You're an even bigger phony than I guessed. Taking me across the state line so's you could put the screws on the gang. Well, let me tell you, fake copper, when Briscoe hears of this--" "You one of the Briscoe mob?" demanded Link. "Why I was practic'ly lined up with Briscoe--before I got sent up the last time. It's a small world, ain't it?"