After placing the glass back on the bar he walked into the back room and sat down. He picked up a copy of a sporting weekly and pretended to be deeply interested in examining the text and pictures. But while he seemed to be reading, his eyes were wandering about the room, and every person who entered the barroom he scrutinized closely. He was waiting for some one. Was that some one Brockey? Half an hour passed. Carter had not stirred out of his chair. The side door opened. A man entered. The man was Brockey Gann. The detective saw him. Still he did not move. No change took place in his countenance. Not a muscle moved. Brockey looked around the back room. His eyes fell on Carter, whose eyes were bent on the paper. Brockey started, bent forward, and a change took place in the expression of his evil face. He uttered an ugly oath and stepped up to Carter, exclaiming: “Why, Mugsey Donovan, when did you get out?” Carter looked up, smiled inanely--a weak, silly, maudlin grin!--and replied: “How are you, Brockey? Wot’s dot youse said? Sit down an’ have a ball wid me?” “I asked you when you got out?” “Six weeks ago. Wot cher goin’ ter have? Name yer pisen?” “I’ll take some of the rosy.” “I’ve been on de tramp. I just dropped in here tinkin’ I’d run up agin’ youse.” “Oh!” The bartender brought the liquor, and the two men were silent. It will be well to explain that Mugsey Donovan was an old pal of Brockey’s, whom Carter had arrested and sent to prison for highway robbery. The rascal was still in Sing Sing. It will be seen that the detective’s disguise must have been perfect to have deceived Brockey as it did. The scoundrel actually believed that he was talking to his old pal. “How is it you got out so soon?” Brockey asked, after he had swallowed his liquor. “Dey reduced me sentence,” the detective rejoined. “How was that?” “I saved one o’ de keepers’ life.” “Go way!” “I ain’t jollyin’ you.” “How did you do it?” “An insane mug tried to escape from his cell. De keeper catched him an’ den he made an attempt to kill de keeper. I seed it an’ knocked ter mug out, see? Den de jailer petitioned de guvnor ter lea’ me out.” “What are you going to do?” “Dat’s what I wanted to see youse about.” “I’m not into anything.” “Youse are not?” asked Nick dubiously. “What do you mean by looking at me in that way?” “Brockey, dis isn’t a safe place ter talk.” “What do you mean?” “Lea’ go some place where we kin talk wid safety.” “I don’t understand you.” “Brockey, don’ youse try ter gi’ an’ old pal like me any sich a bluff as dat!” “Mugsey----” “Brockey, I’m on to yer game.” “You are on to my game?” “Sure.” “Come----” “Le’s go some place where we kin talk wid safety.” Brockey looked intently at the detective. “I can’t see what’s in your nut,” he ejaculated. “Do youse want to talk over private matters here?” Carter asked, and Brockey drawled: “No-o.” “Den le’s go down ter some quiet joint.” “I’ll be hanged!”