Of a sudden, the forger cried out raucously:
“Say, Inspector, if you've got anything on me, I--I would----” The cry dropped into unintelligible mumblings.
Burke retained his manner of serene indifference to the other's agitation. Still, his pen hurried over the paper; and he did not trouble to look up as he expostulated, half-banteringly.
“Now, now! What's the matter with you, Joe? I told you that I wanted to ask you a few questions. That's all.”
Garson leaped to his feet again resolutely, then faltered, and ultimately fell back into the chair with a groan, as the Inspector went on speaking.
“Now, Joe, sit down, and keep still, I tell you, and let me get through with this job. It won't take me more than a minute more.”
But, after a moment, Garson's emotion forced hint to another appeal.
Then, abruptly, he was silent, his mouth still open to utter the words that were now held back by horror. Again, he saw the detective walking forward, out there in the corridor. And with him, as before, was a second figure, which advanced slinkingly. Garson leaned forward in his chair, his head thrust out, watching in rigid suspense. Again, even as before, the door swung wide, the prisoner slipped within, the door clanged shut, the bolts clattered noisily into their sockets.
And, in the watcher, terror grew--for he had seen the face of Chicago Red, another of his pals, another who had seen him kill Griggs. For a time that seemed to him long ages of misery, Garson sat staring dazedly at the closed doors of the tier of cells. The peril about him was growing--growing, and it was a deadly peril! At last, he licked his dry lips, and his voice broke in a throaty whisper.
“Say, Inspector, if you've got anything against me, why----”
“Who said there was anything against you, Joe?” Burke rejoined, in a voice that was genially chiding. “What's the matter with you to-day, Joe? You seem nervous.” Still, the official kept on with his writing.
“No, I ain't nervous,” Garson cried, with a feverish effort to appear calm. “Why, what makes you think that? But this ain't exactly the place you'd pick out as a pleasant one to spend the morning.” He was silent for a little, trying with all his strength to regain his self-control, but with small success.