“For helping a crook elude the police,” Patsy explained. “She denied it, chief, sobbing as if her heart would break; but they’re putting her through the third degree now, hoping to break her down and force a confession from her. My money goes on the girl, chief, all the same.[{6}]”
“Who is the girl?” Nick questioned. “Did you learn any of the circumstances?”
“Sure!” nodded Patsy. “Her name is Helen Bailey.”
“H’m, is that so?”
“She’s a telephone girl, and a sister of Barton Bailey, wanted for robbery in Mantell & Goulard’s big department store, where he was employed at the time. He got away with a diamond sunburst, you remember, and nearly cracked the skull of Gus Flint, one of the store detectives, who had seen him lift the bauble and tried to prevent his escape. That was six months ago.”
“Yes, I recall the case,” said Nick, with a more serious expression. “But what are the circumstances bearing on the girl’s arrest?”
“It seems that Bart Bailey was seen going into a house in East Forty-third Street about ten o’clock this morning,” Patsy continued. “He was in disguise, but was recognized by some one who declined to give his name to the headquarters chief, to whom he hastened to telephone.”
“He stated, I suppose, that he had seen Bailey going into the house.”
“That’s what,” said Patsy. “The chief then called up the precinct station and told the sergeant to go to the house with a couple of men and get Bailey.”
“I see.”