He had suspicions, and he had collected strong circumstantial evidence.
But he wanted something more than this, and he was prepared to take any risk to obtain it. On his way downtown he stopped at a telephone station and called up Patsy, whose whereabouts he knew.
“Meet me downtown at my den within two hours,” he said.
At last he reached Lem Samson’s saloon, and entered.
A bartender was on duty.
Samson was not in the place.
Only a few hangers-on were lolling about.
Carter staggered up to the bar, and, calling for a drink, he cast his eyes about the room.
No one seemed to be paying any particular attention to him.
Nearly all of the men had records, and were known to the police.