thought that he was getting to be a man of some importance in the city. Then his natural suspicion of everything and everybody, born of native cunning and bitter experience, asserted itself. The thing was probably a “plant” of some kind; perhaps an attempt to put him “on a spot.” He looked closely at the enclosed engraved card. There seemed to be no identifying marks upon it but his momentary illusion of possible social grandeur had been dispelled by his innate caution. Half the gangsters in town were sure to be at a place like that; it sounded like just the sort of layout that appealed to them for sport. But did they think he'd be simple enough to fall for a game like that? He crumpled the invitation and card with strong, tense fingers and tossed them in the wastebasket.
A few minutes later the telephone at his elbow rang. It was Jane.
"Could you run home a few minutes, dear?" she asked. "I have something very important to tell you."
"Tell me now."
"Can't. You never can tell when some nosey mugg—a cop or somebody—is listening in on a phone."
"Won't it wait till to-night?"
