Hand and handkerchief came back to the table, and Jimmie Dale leaned his weight carelessly upon it, while the automatic in his right hand still covered the two men.

"Do you think so, Weasel ?" he repeated softly.

"Well, perhaps you are right; and yet; somehow, I am inclined to disagree with you.

Let me see, Weasel--it was Tuesday night, two nights ago; wasn't it, that a trifling break in Maiden Lane at Thorold and Sons disturbed the police?
It was a three-year job for even a first offender, ten for one already on nodding terms with the police and fifteen to twenty for--well, say, for a man like you, Weasel--IF HE WERE CAUGHT! Am I making myself quite plain ?" The colour in the Weasel's cheeks faded a little--his eyes were holding in sudden fascination upon Jimmie Dale.
"I see that I am," observed Jimmie Dale pleasantly.

"I said, 'if he were caught,' you will remember.