“Who were the two guys you were wanting to scrap wid, Bally?” “I don’t know who dey is. I hed a muss wid ’em las’ night to a rag spiel.” “Oh, come off, Bally. Don’t play me dat way. Gimme it straight.” “Honest, I don’t.” “Say, Bally, you couldn’t be honest if you tried. Well, I ain’t on to anythin’ you’ve been doin’, but I want to know who dose fellers are, see! If you don’t give it, why——” He stopped, looking Bally in the face, steadily and threateningly. “Well,” at length said the East Side tough, “dey ain’t no fr’en’s of mine. Dere names is Al Crummie and Bill Graff.” “Crooks?” “Well, dey ain’t straight goods.” “Where is dere hang-out?” “On de block below. What dey been doin’?” “Poisoning dogs, I guess.” Bally looked up at Patsy with a laugh, as if he did not believe him. “Dat’s all I know,” continued Patsy. “Up to the dog show. Dey was hired there.” “Well,” said Bally, “de’re mean enough.” Patsy had now gotten all he wanted, and he hurried off to find Nick Carter and to report. CHAPTER XV. CLOSER TO MASSON. Chick was present when Patsy made his report of the afternoon’s work, and listened with interest to the remarks Nick made on it. “Patsy has settled one end of the case in pretty short order,” said Nick. “The dogs were poisoned by these two men, Crummie and Graff, who were hired to do it by Masson. What further work there is to be done on that line is only that of making the proof strong. Patsy’s work was quickly done, and well done.” “I had a good deal of luck with me,” said Patsy, modestly, though much pleased with the praise of his chief. “Luck, Patsy,” said Nick, “usually comes from the right use of your head, and seizing hold of opportunities when they present themselves.” “Well, chief,” asked Chick, “how does this triumph of Patsy hitch on to the murder end of the case?” “There is where the puzzle is,” remarked Nick, thoughtfully. “This morning,” said Chick, “we said that if we found that Masson was not responsible for the death of the dogs it would go far toward putting Masson out from under the suspicion of murder. Does it work the other way when we find that he is responsible for the poisoning?” “I am afraid that is the way we figured this morning,” said Nick, with a smile. “But after hearing Patsy’s report, I am even more puzzled as to Masson. “If he was guilty of that murder, he is a cool-blooded wretch to talk of it, as Patsy reports he did.” “Yes,” said Chick, “his nerve is great. It seems he knew it was not Blanche, but Ethel Romney that was killed.” “Don’t forget, Chick, that at the time he was talking to these men all the world knew. The evening papers by that time had corrected the error of the morning.” “True enough,” said Chick, “I had forgotten that. So there is no point in that.” “But, chief,” cried Patsy, “what are we to do about the lads that are going to Chicago to-night?” “Let them go,” replied Nick, quietly.