knew, although the formal deed of title, following Baretta's custom, showed another name. The ostensible ownership changed frequently, as did the appellation of the place itself and also its scheme of decoration, and all for the same reason—trouble with the authorities; but its business never altered.
A smiling but mirthless proprietor, Frank Zenneptha—familiarly shortened to Frankie Zenn—had been the "front" of the house since its most recent renaming and redecorating, after the fashion in vogue at the moment when it had been found advisable to have the place "change hands" again.
Frankie Zenn was, in Oliver's opinion, the gentleman in whose palm had reposed the automatic pistol which had delivered two bullets to Considine, when George Baretta had so bid. This, to be sure, was mere conjecture, not in the least susceptible to legal proof. Further, George Baretta himself was the slayer of Adele Ketlar; and this had become, in Oliver's mind, more than opinion since he had heard the accusation, together with considerable collateral disclosures of Baretta's covert affair with Adele Ketlar, from the lips of the same girl who had passed the tip to Seifert. She once had been attached to Tut's Temple, and she was in such situation now that she had exacted a sclemn pledge, before she spoke, guaranteeing to her that she would not be called against Baretta or quoted in any way.
Joan Daisy Royle, if she identified Baretta, would be quoted; indeed, she wanted to be; so Oliver pleasantly phrased to himself the sensational headlines of to-morrow if he succeeded in pulling off his "beat" to-night. Oliver not only had recognized the risk, but he flattered himself that he had honestly described it to Joan Daisy; and he had found the girl "game." She wanted to go with him, especially when he had told her that Mr. Clarke
