“You’re pretty sure Cartwright has the straight dope!”

“Sure thing,” said the chief.  “He’s one of the most reliable men on the force, and when he says a thing, he knows it.”

Carroll stroked his beardless chin.  There was a hard, calculating light in his eyes—­eyes which alternated between a soft, friendly blue and a steely gray.  Finally he looked up at Leverage.

“What’s your idea, Eric?”

“About him sendin’ word he was out when we know he ain’t?”

“Exactly.”

“It looks darn funny to me, Carroll!  ’Pears like he didn’t want to discuss the affair with us.”

“He don’t know who we are.”

“He can guess pretty well.  Any guy with a head on his shoulders knows the valet of a murdered man is going to be quizzed by the police.”

“Good!  Come on.”

Carroll put a firm hand on the knob and turned it.  Then he stepped into the dingy reception hall, followed by the city’s chief of police.

At the sound of visitors, the angular frame of the boarding-house-keeper appeared in the doorway, her eyes flashing antagonistically.  Leverage turned back the lapel of his coat and disclosed the police badge.

“Listen here, lady,” he said in a voice whose very softness brooked no opposition; “that bird Barker is here, and we’re going to see him.  Police business!  Where’s his room?”

The woman’s face grew ashen.

“What’s he been doin’?” she quavered.  “What’s he been up to now?”

“What’s he been up to before this?” countered Leverage.

“I don’t know anything about him.  Swear to Gawd I don’t!  He just come here yesterday an’ took a room.  Paid cash in advance.”

“He’s in his room, ain’t he?”

“What if he is?  He told me to tell anybody who come along that he was out.  I didn’t know you was cops.  Oh, I hope there ain’t nothin’ goin’ to ruin the reputation of this place!  There ain’t a woman in town who runs a decenter place than this.”

“Nobody’s going to know anything,” reassured Carroll, “provided you keep your own tongue between your teeth.  Now take us to Barker’s room.”

The boarding-house-keeper led the way up a flight of dark and twisting stairs, along a musty hall.  She paused before a door at the far end.

“There it is, sirs—­and—­”

“You go downstairs,” whispered Carroll.  “If we should find you trying to listen at the keyhole—­”

His manner made it unnecessary to finish the threat.  The woman departed, fluttering with excitement.  Leverage’s hand found the knob, and Carroll nodded briefly.  The door was flung open, and the two men entered.

“What the—­”

The occupant of the room leaped to his feet and stood staring, his face gone pasty white, his demeanor one of terror, which Carroll could see he was fighting to control.  Leverage closed the door gently and gazed at the man upon whom they had called.