"Oh," I said. I did some quick thinking. "Oh!" I said in a different tone. "I remember you. How'd you know my number. Did you find my wallet? That must be it. I lost it. Thanks a lot for calling me about it. I'll meet you tomorrow and get it back." "It was in my pocket," he said coldly. "And my own was missing. I want it back." "Yours was missing?" I said. "Hey, wait a minute. If you think I got it you're crazy. Somebody played a trick on us. There must have been a pickpocket at Sarah Fish's tonight." "There was," he said coldly. "You. I took the trouble of calling the police and found out. I want my wallet and I want it tonight." "I don't have it. No kidding." I said worriedly. "I'm handing you the straight goods. By the way, what happened after I left? I heard the police sirens." "Someone had called them and said there was a murder. They were pretty sore about it." "And there wasn't? Ha Ha?" I said. "Quit stalling, Smith," Wile said. "I want my wallet back. And everything in it." "Haven't got it," I said. A long sigh came over the phone. "All right," Wile said. "I sort of expected this. I'll give you five hundred dollars for it." I took the phone from my face and stared at it, thinking. Talking sounds came from the receiver. I put it back to my ear and said, "Come again? I didn't hear you." "You heard me all right," Wile said. "Okay, I can get you two thousand dollars from the bank tomorrow. Meet me at eleven o'clock at State and Washington, northeast corner." "Okay," I said. "Be sure and bring me _my_ wallet." "I will," he said smoothly. His tone became worried. "Is my wallet in a _safe_ place?" "Sure," I said, thinking of the spot under the counter where I had slid it with my foot. "You don't need to worry about it at all." The line was dead. I realized suddenly that he had trapped me into an admission that I had his wallet. * * * * * This wasn't the same as a little light finger work on a crowded train, or getting a rubber check chased, or any of the many things I did when the opportunity arose, to pay my rent. Wile didn't just want these poison needles back. He was planning to kill me to keep me quiet. But he wanted the needles and his wallet back too. First. I thought of Golfin and his reading in the papers that I had been murdered, and it wasn't funny. I locked the door and wedged a chair under the knob. Wile now knew for sure I was the one who had his wallet. He could be on his way down to kill me right now. I started packing. It wasn't until I was almost packed that I suddenly became aware of someone standing behind me. I jerked around in alarm. It was Sam Golfin. "How'd you get in here?" I blurted out. "I've been waiting here ever since tomorrow," he said. "I had to see you." I grinned at him thinly. "I didn't get murdered at Sarah's after all," I remarked dryly.