Now you may or may not know it, but the confidence man of tip-top attainments cultivates the control and expression of his features with as much care as does the professional beauty--this for the reason that his looks are among his most valuable assets. For the first stage in "turning a trick," whether this be done in a Broadway hotel or a downtown office building, is for the operator to get a hold on the confidence of his victim by impressing him with his, the former's, frankness and honesty through the medium of his steady gaze, cheery smile and sincerity of expression in general. But "wise" people are not taken in by these things. Apart from all else, those who have had much to do with criminals--whether mugged or unmugged--will tell you that there is such a thing as the "crook eye," which invariably gives its owner away. It is, as I once heard a clever detective put it, "an eye behind the eye"--a something sinister peeping out from the bland and childlike gaze which the "con" turns on his prospective gull. Robins's eyes were big and blue and clear, and almost infantile in their expression. Nevertheless, as he faced me smiling, I saw the "crook's eye" sizing me up, and I knew that old "Split's" story was more or less true. And, on the impulse of the moment, I began "throwing it into him" in the "patter" of the Under World. Robins's eyes narrowed for an instant, but that was all. His command of his countenance was simply lovely. And I, as a _connoisseur_ of things having to do with gun-dom, could not but sit and admire. Then he smiled, not quite so nice a smile as those he had been giving me. Mr. Robins realized that the need for professional effort had passed. "Well," he said, after a meditative pause, "see that you're _on_, or think you are. And now what?" The laugh with which he finished the sentence was so unmistakably real that I at once became wary. "I guess you know enough of reporters," I said, rather lamely, "to understand that I'm here to ask whether the complaints in this letter are founded on fact or otherwise." "Fact in one sense," he replied, cheerily, "but that won't do this squealer any good, because we're protected on that score, as I'll show you." He produced one of the agreements that were in force between his concern and its patrons--or "suckers"--and pointed out a "joker" in it which legally, but certainly not morally, rendered invalid the charge of swindling on the part of the letter writer. "You must have a mighty clever lawyer behind you," I couldn't help saying. "Yes," replied Robins, complacently, "he knows his business and he's one of us. We have to be prepared for kicks of this sort, because our business breeds 'em. They come our way all the time." He spoke with cynical frankness. "I'm going to use that remark of yours in my story," I said.