Patsy had had a case against this fellow a month before, one that would have sent him to Sing Sing. He had not pressed it, nor even arrested him, however, because of the fact that Flynn associated at times with two other crooks much wanted by Patsy and the police, and through whom he hoped to discover them. It was about half past four when Patsy entered the saloon mentioned, and he discovered Flynn eating free lunch from a table in the rear of the long room. There were many others in the dive, and the entrance of Patsy was hardly noticed. He threaded his way through the smoke-filled place and brought up at Flynn’s elbow. “How are you, Pilot?” he said quietly. Flynn swung round and viewed him sharply through a pair of sinister, beady black eyes. “What’s eating you?” he snarled under his breath, suspiciously. “Don’t know me, eh?” queried Patsy. “Not so you’d notice it.” “Well, don’t show any surprise when I tell you,” cautioned Patsy. “I’ve been looking for you. I’m--whisper! Patsy Garvan.” Flynn’s hangdog face lost some of its color. He drew back, muttering an oath, then quickly added: “Looking for me? You’re not----” “No, I’m not going to take you in,” put in Patsy. “Nothing of that kind.” “What d’ye want, then?” Flynn asked, with a look of relief. “I want you to do something for me.” “What’s that?” “Come into the back room and I’ll order some booze,” said Patsy. “There’s no one in there. I’ll tell you while we fire a ball or two.” This proposition suited Flynn to the letter, particularly since learning that he was not to be arrested, but rather was in a fair way to acquire further consideration on the part of the detective. “I’m with you,” he nodded. “That’s good enough for me.” Patsy led the way into a dingy rear room and rang for one of the bartenders. He appeared in a moment and took the order, presently returning with the drinks. Patsy paid him, and then closed the door, drawing a chair to the bare table, at which Flynn had seated himself. “Now, Pilot, we’ll get down to business,” he said quietly, with an assurance the other did not quite fancy. “When did you last see Bug Bannon?” “I dunno,” said Flynn, crafty-eyed. “It must be a week, sure, since I had me lamps on him.” “You’re pretty good friends, aren’t you?” “For all I know.” “You know you are,” said Patsy, a bit sharply. “Come across with straight goods, now, or you’ll get all that’s coming to you. Are you on?” “Sure.” “One word from me will send you up the river.” “I know that, Garvan,” Flynn grimly admitted. “What is it you want?” “I want to find Bug Bannon between now and dark. Do you know where to look for him?” “I might find him for you. What’s up?” “I’m after a bunch that pulled off a robbery this morning.” “How does Bannon fit in?” “He’s in touch with them, and I want to nail them through him.” “Rats! He wouldn’t tell you,” said Flynn. “He’s no snitch. He wouldn’t squeal if he was in the chair.”