“Sure,” Chick vouchsafed, with sinister intonation. “That hits me all right. It’s just what I wanted. But none would think less of you for talking with me, as far as that goes—not much!” There could be no mistaking such a beginning as this, and the woman’s white face lost much of its beauty under the vicious scowl that settled upon it. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded. “You ought to know,” said Chick. “Well, I don’t know,” Janet retorted. “Let it go at that, then. Take it for what it’s worth.” “See here, you insolent——” “Oh, cut that!” Chick interrupted, unruffled. “Don’t go into the air because I’m not handing you a pasteboard with my monaker on it. I don’t happen to have one. I ain’t a gink what carries his name pasted in his lid. My name is Kennedy, plain Jim Kennedy, and I’ve got a word to say to you on a little matter of business. That’s why I’m here, Miss Payson.” Chick coolly took a chair while speaking, the same from which Murdock had just arisen. He noticed at once that both wooden arms of the chair were slightly warm, where the hands of some person had been recently resting on them. Though he already knew that the woman was not alone, having been watching her apartments since early morning, he looked up at her and quickly added: “I’ve taken your chair, mebbe.” “No,” she replied, pointing to one near her dressing stand. “I was sitting there. See here, Mr. Kennedy, what’s the meaning of this visit? Come to the point.” She had appeared in doubt up to that time, uncertain what course to shape; but her voice and countenance now denoted that she anticipated what was coming, that she suspected the mission of her sinister visitor, and that she also felt fully equal to meeting the situation. She sat down quite abruptly and repeated: “Come to the point. What do you want here?” “That’s quickly told,” Chick replied. “It’s about the little job that was pulled off last night.” “What job, Mr. Kennedy?” “That train robbery. You know all about it.” “All about it!” Janet exclaimed. “What do you mean by that? I know nothing about it—except that there was a robbery.” “Oh, yes, you do,” Chick insisted. “Nix on that. I happened to be on the train, and I’m wise to something that no other gazabo noticed.” “What was that?” she coldly questioned. “There was a gink with you in the car who didn’t show up after the robbery.” “What of that?” “He quit you just before the trick was turned, and he didn’t come back to you. He was no come-back kid,” Chick declared. “He went through the smoker and uncoupled it from the express car. He was the gink who did the job, or one of the bunch—and you know it.” The woman heard him with hardly a change of countenance. “You are very much mistaken,” she said icily. “About what?” “My knowing anything about the robbery—or the man you mention.” “He was with you, wasn’t he?”