street.  Since this was his first arrest, he did not know enough to go quietly, and when one of his captors released his grip he tried to wrench himself loose.  Cossacks could not mistreat a prisoner more brutally than these policemen mistreated poor, cringing, spineless Jimmy Knight.  He reached the station-house more dead than alive, and then when he saw a loaded revolver removed from his own pocket he utterly collapsed.  Weeping like a woman, he was led to a cell and left to meditate upon the inconsistencies and injustices of the Sullivan law.

As the hours crept by and his efforts to obtain assistance proved unavailing he began to understand something of Young Sullivan’s and Armistead’s feelings.  Then light came to him; he learned of the disaster to the Metropolitan Club and immediately lost faith in Melcher’s ability to help him, with the result that when he was finally led to Inspector Snell’s office for the third degree he “squealed” promptly.  In his panic to save himself he volunteered even more of his private history than the Inspector desired to hear, and was only too willing to make known all of the facts of the Hammon case.  Nor did he withhold the truth about the present attempt at blackmailing Bob Wharton and Merkle; the first question along this line served to unlock his lips, and he whiningly laid bare the entire conspiracy.  It seemed, however, that his earnest desire to help the law was scarcely appreciated, for even after he had blindly affixed his signature to the documents which Inspector Snell placed before him he was led back to his cell.

Rules were far from strict at Lilas Lynn’s hotel.  The employees were not over-courteous at any time, and, although in theory callers announced themselves by telephone before going up-stairs, this was a custom generally honored in the breach.  No question, therefore, was raised when a heavily built, capable-looking man, with large hands and feet, inquired for Miss Lynn’s room-number and stepped into the elevator without declaring his business.

Lilas herself opened the door at his knock, but showed some reluctance at admitting him until he murmured the magic word “Headquarters,” whereupon she fell back with a look of startled inquiry in her eyes.  The stranger did not trouble to remove his hat; after a swift inventory of the room he announced: 

“The Inspector sent me to see you.”

“What Inspector?”

“Snell.”

“Yes?” Lilas’s voice was badly controlled, for there was something disturbing about this man’s behavior.

“Your orders is to leave town.  Be out and away at eight o’clock; that’s four hours.  Understand?”

“You must be crazy,” Lilas cried, with a show of spirit.  “What have I done?  Who do you think I am?  Inspector Snell, eh?  I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me.”

“I guess he knows you, all right.  Eight bells, sister.  I’ll be back then.”