Inspector Stapleton sat up straight. He looked at Culligore in a determined way. “What I can’t understand is why you didn’t show me these slips yesterday. You say you were too busy with other things. I’d like to know what other things could be more important. Never mind that, though. The thing to do now is to find Fairspeckle.”
Again Culligore drew his palm across his mouth. “And when you have found him, inspector, what are you going to do with him?”
“Eh?” Stapleton seemed to think the question a strange one. “Do with him? Why, we’ll see to it that he gets the stiffest sentence the law provides. If we once get our hands on him we’ll put him in a place where he won’t be able to trouble us for some time.”
“Aren’t you overlooking something, inspector?”
Stapleton stared perplexedly at his subordinate.
“What about the seven capitalists?” the lieutenant went on. “They’ll die like rats unless the antidote is administered in time. You can’t make Mr. Shei fork over the antidote by putting him in jail. He’s wise enough to know that as long as the antidote is in his possession he has a hold on us, and he won’t be likely to give it up. He knows we are not going to let seven of the biggest men in the country die just for the sake of sending him to jail. The fact is, inspector, that Mr. Shei has us sewed up in a sack.”
Stapleton seemed about to make an indignant reply, but it died on his tongue. Evidently Culligore’s argument had made a strong impression. He dropped back against the chair and peered diffidently into space.
“I’m hanged if I’m going to sit with arms folded and let Mr. Shei put this thing over,” he muttered at last. “He’s a slick crook, but there ought to be a way of dealing with him.”
“I think there is, inspector,” agreed Culligore, leisurely rising from his chair. “I can’t see it just yet, but maybe my mind will work better after a little walk. So long, inspector.”
He shuffled from the room, followed by Inspector Stapleton’s puzzled gaze. After leaving the headquarters building, he walked to a near-by restaurant and ordered a substantial meal. He seemed in no hurry, for he ate slowly and lingered for a considerable time over his coffee and cigar. An observer, noticing his languid air and phlegmatic expression, might have thought that Mr. Shei was farthest from his mind. It was dark when he left the restaurant, and it was a little after eight o’clock when, after a leisurely stroll in a zigzagging direction, he reached the Thelma Theater.