"Nope, I don't like them magazines, Mr. Conne. An' I don't like mystery thrillers 'cause I ain't so dumb that I don't know those things couldn't happen in real life. Gee, I can only go to the movies once in a while an' when I go I like to see somepin' that makes me laugh. Since my father died I don't get no spendin' money 'cause my aunt's terrible poor an' she says I gotta be glad she can even lemme sleep an' eat." "And she had to put you out to work?" Carlton Conne tilted his cigar thoughtfully. "And you decided you wanted to be a detective. Why?" "I always wanted to be a detective," Skippy answered unabashed, "ever since they railroaded my father. When they let him out I wanted to be one more'n ever an' when he died an' I come back to lookin' for my aunt I almost was sent to Reform 'cause I got hungry an' went into a restaurant an' ate a whole lot more'n I had the money to pay for. So anyway they found my aunt an' she took me from the station house an' promised to take care of me. But all the time since, I been thinkin' how if I was a detective I'd know the difference between a kid that was bad and a kid that was hungry. Gee, I know crooks like anything, Mr. Conne, so that's another reason I'd make a good detective. A bunch of 'em lived 'round me when I was on the barge waitin' for my father to get outa jail. River pirates an' all! They're my special--my specialty!" he bragged. "And 'Reform's' your special fear, eh?" Carlton Conne asked, blinking his eyes. "Yeah, I was scareda that like anythin'," Skippy admitted with a shudder at the memory. "When my father was on trial I shivered in my boots afraid they'd send me there." Carlton Conne brought his feet down onto the softly carpeted floor and pulling up his chair, scrutinized a letter that lay open on his desk. After a moment's silence he glanced up at the boy and swiftly surveyed him. "Suppose I were to tell you that I want you to go to Reform School!" he said enigmatically. "Huh?" Skippy asked, wide-eyed. "Sit down!" Carlton Conne said briskly. "I want to talk to you!" Skippy did as he was told. CHAPTER III A BARGAIN Carlton Conne took the letter in his hand and manoeuvered the cigar back and forth in his mouth. At length he said, "Don't be scared, kid. I want you to go, but not for anything _you've_ done--it's for me!" Skippy gasped. "Gee, you mean you're gonna lemme be a detec----"