Still I did not send for him; it was no part of my policy to exhibit concern in one with whom I was strange, and who later might open his mouth to quote it against me. McCue, however, was so much inclined to humor my desire, that one afternoon he walked into my presence of his own free will. “My name is McCue,” said he, “Inspector McCue.” I motioned him to a chair. “I've been told to collect evidence against certain parties in Barclay Street,” he added. Then he came to a full stop. While I waited for him to proceed in his own way and time, I studied Inspector McCue. He was a square-shouldered man, cautious, keen, resolute; and yet practical, and not one to throw himself away in the jaws of the impossible. What he had come to say, presently proved my estimate of him. On the whole, I didn't like the looks of Inspector McCue. “What is your purpose?” I asked at last. “I need not tell you that I have no official interest in what you may be about. Still less have I a personal concern.” Inspector McCue's only retort was a grimace that did not add to his popularity. Next he went boldly to the object of his call. “What I want to say is this,” said he. “I've collected the evidence I was sent after; I can lay my hands on the parties involved as keepers and dealers in that Barclay Street den. But I'm old enough to know that all the evidence in the world won't convict these crooks unless the machine is willing. I'm ready to go ahead and take my chances. But I'm not ready to run against a stone wall in the dark. I'd be crazy, where no good can come, to throw myself away.” “Now this is doubtless of interest to you,” I replied, putting some impression of distance into my tones, “but what have I to do with the matter?” “Only this,” returned McCue. “I'd like to have you tell me flat, whether or no you want these parties pinched.” “Inspector McCue,” said I, “if that be your name and title, it sticks in my head that you are making a mistake. You ask me a question which you might better put to your chief.” “We won't dispute about it,” returned my caller; “and I'm not here to give offense. I am willing to do my duty; but, as I've tried to explain, I don't care to sacrifice myself if the game's been settled against me in advance. You speak of my going to the chief. If arrests are to be made, he's the last man I ought to get my orders from.” “If you will be so good as to explain?” said I. “Because, if I am to go on, I must begin by collaring the chief. He's the principal owner of that Barclay Street joint.” This was indeed news, and I had no difficulty in looking grave.