"Oh yes," was the answer. "I've got lots of color; just what I wanted. And that Italian whose wife was mort—he's copy, I'm sure."
"Copy?" queried Suydam.
"I mean I can use him in one of my sketches for the Metropolis," the novelist explained. "I wish I knew what his wife was like."
"She was a pretty girl—dark-haired, dark-eyed, with a lively smile," Suydam said. "He was very jealous of her. I've been told they used to quarrel bitterly."
"I shouldn't like to have that fellow for an enemy," De Ruyter declared, as they passed through the alleyway and came out in the open air. "He has an eye like a glass stiletto."
The novelist and the young man from the University Settlement walked up the street together. As they drew near to a police-station, jealously guarded by its green lamps, three officers came out and turned down the street.
When the policemen were abreast of the two friends, one of them stepped aside and accosted the young man from the Settlement.
"Mr. Suydam," he said, "you gentlemen from the Settlement sometimes know what's going on better than we do. Have you seen Pietro Barretti lately—the one they call Italian Pete?"
"I saw him not ten minutes ago—in his own room," Suydam answered.
"He's all right, boys," cried the policeman. "He's there."