Mr. Max slipped closer to the bed, an ugly look on his face. The mayor glared fixedly into Magee's eyes. The knight who fought for fair ladies in the snow lay on his pillow and considered briefly.
"I get what I go after," remarked Cargan emphatically.
"Yes," sparred Magee, "but the real point is keeping what you get after you've gone after it. You didn't make much of an impression on me last night in that line, Mr. Cargan."
"I never cared much for humor," replied the mayor, "especially at this early hour of the morning."
"And I hate a fresh guy," put in Max, "like poison."
"I'm not fresh," Mr. Magee smiled, "I'm stating facts. You say you've come for that package. All right—but you've come to the wrong room. I haven't got it."
"The hell you haven't," roared the mayor. "Lou, look about a bit."
"Look about all you like," agreed Magee. "You won't find it. Mr. Cargan, I admit that I laid for you last night. I saw you open the safe according to the latest approved methods, and I saw you come forth with a package of money. But I wasn't rough with you. I might have been, to be frank, but somebody beat me to it."
"Who?"
"The man with the seventh key, I suppose. The man Bland heard walking about last night when we were at dinner. Don't tell me you didn't see him in that mix-up at the foot of the steps?"