The man before the screen shook his head in helpless bewilderment There was a suggestion of fright in his manner, as well.

“Can’t find out a t’ing, gov’nor.  I hopes you don’t blame me for dis.  I’m doin’ my share.  Dey just disappears dat night w’en you sends ’em to shadder Van Cleft’s joint.  My calcerlation is—­”

“I’m not paying you to calculate.  I’ve trusted you and lost six thousand dollars’ worth of automobiles for my pains.  You can just calculate this, that unless I get some news about Jake, Ben and the Monk by this time tomorrow, I’ll send some news down to Police headquarters on Lafayette Street that will make you wish you had never been born.”

For some reason not difficult to guess, the suggestion had a galvanic effect on the bewildered one.  His hands trembled as he raised them imploringly to the screen.

“Oh, gov’nor, wot have I done?  Ain’t I been on de level wid yez?  Say, I ain’t never even seen yez for de fourteen months I’ve been yer gobetween.  I’ve been beat up by de cops, pinched and sent to de workhouse ’cause I wouldn’t squeal, and now ye t’reatens me.  Did I ever fall down on a trick ontil dis week?  You’se ain’t goin’ ter welch on me, are you’se?  I ain’t no welcher meself, an’ ye knows it.”

The other snapped out curtly:  “Very well, cut out the sob stuff.  It’s up to you to prove that there hasn’t been a leak somewhere or a double cross.  Send in those rummies,—­I want to give them the once over again.  There’s a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, and I’m no abolitionist!  Quick now.  Get a wiggle on.”

The hand was withdrawn from the little opening, as the lieutenant advanced into the front compartment of the cellar.  He beckoned meaningly to the others to follow him.  They obeyed with a slinking walk, which showed that they were obsessed by some great dread, in that unseen presence, in the heart of the spider-web!

“Which one of you is the stool pigeon,” came the harsh query.

“W’y, gov’nor, none of us.  You’se knows us,” whined one of the men.

“Yes, and I know enough to send you all to Atlanta or Sing Sing or Danamora, for the rest of your rotten lives, if I want to.”

The rascals stared vainly into the black vacuum of the screen, blinking in the glaring lights, cowering instinctively before the unseen but certain malignancy of the power behind that mysterious wall.

“I brought you here to New York,” continued the master, “you are making more money with less work and risk than ever before.  But you’re playing false with me, and I know some one is slipping information where it oughtn’t to go.  I’m going to skin alive the one who I catch.  There’s one eye that never sleeps, don’t forget that.”

“Gee, boss, wot do we know to slip?” advanced the most forward of them.  “We follers orders, and gets our kale and dat’s all.  We ain’t never even seen ya, and don’t know even wot de whole game is.  Don’t queer us, gov’nor!”