“How?”
“Well, I don’t want to make any accusations,” declared Yates, “but I can’t help thinking certain things. You know how I’m handicapped. All this battle against dope and gambling — it’s all discussed in the committee meetings before I make a move. Now, let’s suppose—”
Cruikshank’s gaze was severe as the police chief paused. Yates caught the mayor’s glance and moved uneasily.
“Go ahead, Yates,” said Cruikshank firmly.
“Suppose,” resumed Yates slowly, “that some one in that committee outfit is giving a tip-off. Watch here — watch there — lay low — and what not. It would help the crooks, wouldn’t it?”
RUFUS CRUIKSHANK nodded as he drummed upon the table. He seemed to be giving weighty consideration to the police chief’s words. Yates felt more and more uneasy. He realized that he had made indirect charges against certain men whom Cruikshank held in high esteem.
For a few moments, Yates felt that his job was hanging in the balance. Then he gained relief as Cruikshank replied.
“You may be right, Yates,” said the mayor. “Yes, you may be right. Tell me” — his tone became thoughtful — “is there any one whom you suspect?”
“No,” admitted Yates. “No one definite. But” — his tone became blunt — “there are some who might find it nice to have a finger in the pie.”
“Who are they?”