Noolen picked up the papers, glanced at them, then stiffened. He looked sharply at Fenner, then back to the papers again.
“You’d better burn ’em,” Fenner said.
Noolen was already reaching for a match. They stood in silence until the charred ash drifted on to the floor.
Fenner said, “That’s saved you a little, hasn’t it, Leadler?”
Noolen went very pale. He said hoarsely, “Don’t call me that, damn you!”
Fenner said, “Why did Thayler lend you ten grand?”
“How did you get those?”
“Oh, I found them. I thought maybe you’d feel more disposed to play ball if you were out of Thayler’s debt.”
Noolen fidgeted with his eyes. “Glorie’s been talking,” he said. There was a vicious, gritty quality in his voice.
Fenner shook his head. “I got it from the cops. Listen, buddy, you might as well make up your mind. If you don’t play ball with me, I’ll take back to Illinois. I guess they’d be glad to see you.”