“Nothing special. Do I have to have a ticket to come here?”
“There is nothing in that kind of a bluff. This is Chick Carter talking to you, Sloan, and you’d better make a clean breast of it. What do you know about that Manhattanville murder?”
“Nothing at all about it,” Sloan declared, but every vestige of color left his sinister face.
“Your looks give your words the lie, Slugger,” Chick said sternly. “You were out there last night, and you had a hand in the job.”
“You’ve got another guess, Carter,” Sloan coldly asserted.
“Why were you sizing up Badger’s house, then, and Dakin’s lime building?”
“Was I doing that?”
“I saw you doing it. We know, too, that they were in the job.”
“You’re a couple of wise ginks,” Sloan observed, with a sneer.
“You’re not going to open up, eh?” Chick questioned.