“I know more dan youse t’ink, Brockey,” Carter remarked. “So if youse go ter givin’ me any fairy tales I’ll be down on youse wid all me force.” “I’m going to tell you all about the lay,” Brockey replied, as he aroused himself out of his reverie. “Den fire ahead.” “Don’t get impatient.” “I’m not.” “Have you got anything to smoke?” “Cert.” “Then set it out.” Carter placed some cigars on the table. Brockey picked up one, lit it, and commenced to smoke. With a sigh, he settled himself back in the chair. Another silence followed, and it was nearly five minutes before he commenced to talk. CHAPTER XII. CAUGHT IN A TRAP. “I want to tell you one thing, Mugsey,” Brockey exclaimed suddenly, sitting bolt upright in his chair. “I’m not as deep in this affair of the Red Dragon Inn as you suspect.” “Don’ gi’ me any o’ dat,” Carter rejoined, blowing a cloud of smoke up in the air over his head. “Upon my honor, what I tell you is the truth.” Carter could not help smiling when Brockey spoke of his honor. Such a scoundrel as that does not know what honor is! The detective knew well that Brockey had no honor, that he would lie, steal, and if he found himself in a tight place, he would not hesitate to betray an accomplice, if by so doing he could save himself. Brockey noticed the smile, and he flared up instantly. “What are you smiling at, Mugsey?” he demanded. “Youse,” Carter replied, without moving a muscle, and he puffed away at his cigar, unconcernedly. “You are laughing at me?” “Cert.” “I----” “Youse gi’ me a pain! Go on wid yer story.” “I want to know----” “Drop it.” “What were you laughing at?” “When _youse_ talk o’ honor it’s ’nuff ter make a dorg laff.” “Is----” “Come, Brockey--we’s understand each udder--speel ahead, neider of us has got any honor, fur dat matter.” “All right.” Brockey quieted down. He took several pulls at his cigar, and then he continued: “As I said, I’m not as deep in that Red Dragon Inn affair as you think.” “Let it go at dat.” “I’ll tell you all about the affair, Mugsey. “Then you and I can put our heads together and decide what to do.” “We’ll gi’ dem a good song and dance--make no mistake o’ dat.” “How shall I start?” “At de beginnin’.” “How else would I start?” “Youse might start at de tail.” “That will do.” “Youse is wastin’ time.” “Then keep quiet.” “I’m mum.” “Listen.” Brockey cleared his throat. “It was the day before New Year’s,” he said. “I was down on my luck and I hadn’t a cent in my pocket. “Not in a long time had I been in such a hole. “I tried to touch a dozen o’ the gang, but every one seemed to be in the same boat. “No one could show me a cent. “I was at Samson’s saloon. “Along about four o’clock a bloke came in. “It was Sim Rich. “Darwin had given me a knockdown to him some time before. “At a glance I saw that he was excited about something.