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 as he thought of Marjorie, and then he tried not to think of her.

"A salesman of mine, Nyman, lives up that way; in the next building, in fact," Cuncliffe continued. "Nyman's married; has a baby; a darned decent fellow. He says his wife made friends with Mrs. Russell at the markets up there; she liked her. Mrs. Russell came to Nyman's flat a couple of times and listened for the baby while Nyman took his wife to picture shows. Then they found out about her; he mentioned it to me one day when he happened to recognize Mr. Hale in our shop. Remember you told him I'd give him wholesale prices on tires? He came down with his driver to arrange about it, and Nyman told me he was the man who goes to that flat."

Cuncliffe hesitated and Gregg waited, silent.

"Of course, I told Nyman to keep his mouth shut and be careful," Cuncliffe continued. "But he talked to me about it again to-day. It seems that Russell's hanging around home."

Gregg jerked and looked over at Jim. "Home?" he repeated, quickly. "That's Russell's home?"

"Didn't mean that. She got a divorce from Russell a couple of years ago, I understand. Nyman says he's no real claim on her; but he's down and out and also wise to the situation with her; he's found out who Hale is and he means to make something out of it. Now you know Mr. Hale better than I do; is he the kind to stand for a hold-up?"

Gregg stared at Jim and, almost absent-mindedly, shook his head.

"Then Russell is all set to start something. He has an army pistol and he's in steady connection with some one's private still. Nyman says the next time