"What's up, Fingy?" inquired a voice. "Wekusko," replied the man on the box, in the husky, flesh-smothered tones of the person who had entered last into the cabin. "Another dead one up there, eh?" persisted the same voice. "No. Maps 'n' things f'r Hodges, up at the camp. Devil of a hurry, ain't he, to order us up at night? Tell to hustle out with the bottle, will you?"

Everybody, including the prisoner, looked at the old scientist with surprise. 'Fingy' had recovered his composure by this time. He asked Professor Brierly: "What is it, Prof, is it me tonsils or me teeth? I had me tonsils out and a tooth carpenter recently socked me a hell of a wad for fixin' up me grinders."

But I am expecting more detailed information that may place this grandson definitely. Now what is the message you had for me, Mr. Hite?" "Our man who covers headquarters, Professor, saw 'Fingy' Smith a few minutes after he was booked and charged. 'Fingy' insists on seeing you, personally." Professor Brierly made a grimace of distaste. "I do not like it. I do not like the atmosphere of a prison.

Jimmy later learned that it had been chewed off in a rough and tumble fight in a Chinese joint on the Pacific coast. Sergeant Conners greeted him pleasantly, the assistant district attorney, somberly. He did not hold with being on pleasant terms with criminals. Conners said: "'Fingy', this is Professor Brierly, he is gonna ask you some questions." "How de do, Prof. I heard about ye.

If the cloth had not been about his mouth, it is possible that Philip would not have restrained audible expression of his astonishment at what happened an instant later. The card was torn off, and a ray of light shot into his eyes. Through a narrow slit not more than a quarter of an inch wide, and six inches long, he found himself staring out into the room. The Fingy was close behind him.

The prisoner gave the names of four men and two women, Conners jotting down the names on a slip of paper. "That little job, o' yours four years ago in Rye, 'Fingy' you wasn't framed on that was you?" "Well, I guess they had the goods on me all right. But what of that? I done my bit, didn't I?" "I ain't talkin' about that, 'Fingy, I jest wanted to get it straight.

"Not that way, man," objected Hodges, for Philip was now certain that he was in the presence of the chief of construction. "Put it down over there in the corner." "Not on your life," retorted Fingy, cracking his finger bones fiercely. "See here. Mister Hodges, I ain't a coward, but I b'lieve in bein' to the dead, 'n' to a box that's held one.

If 'Fingy' could induce the old man to use his influence in his behalf, it would not be so easy to convict him. 'Fingy' was not pleased at the presence of the police officer. He made the best of it however. He realized that he was not in a position where he could dictate terms.

He did not think, when he bit into the apple that he was leaving what the police call a 'calling card'. It will be found on investigation that Amos Brown's teeth fit into the 'moulage' of the apple. "In addition to that, unfortunately for the murderer, 'Fingy' had a splendid alibi, an alibi that the killer could not foresee." "The Flynn murder was easy.

And so his captors were taking him to Wekusko? and more than that, to Hodges, chief of construction, whose life had been attempted by the prisoner whom Inspector MacGregor had ordered him to bring down! Had Fingy spoken the truth? And, if so, was this another part of the mysterious plot foreseen by the inspector?