"Then followed three cases where the guys lost their nerve and paid up. I guess you're chiefly interested in the guys that got killed, though," added Green, turning to Forrester.
"Yes, I think so," answered Forrester. "I want to know just what happens to a man who turns these people down."
"Well, he gets his—that's all I can say," replied Green, emphatically. "That is," he added, realizing his slip, "unless he comes to me."
"Then it is to be expected that I shall escape?" said Forrester, smiling.
"I said I had some theories, Mister," returned Green, assuming a wise expression. "I ain't tellin' all I know, but you can bet your life I'll be on the job between now and midnight Saturday.
"The next case o' a death," Green resumed, taking up another clipping, "is that of James Ingraham, capitalist and director of the Cook County Trust Company. He was ordered to pay fifteen thousand dollars, and ignored the demand—except for reportin' it as usual to the police. Ingraham was found sittin' under a tree in Lincoln Park early one evenin', and the hospital they took him to, and where he died, reported that all the symptoms showed that he had been—asphyxiated.
"In the early fall, two more guys was threatened and decided to pay up.
"Now," concluded Green, closing the folder and leaning back in his chair, "I want you to notice two things strikin' me as funny. These here guys apparently knock off in the winter time. Another thing is that the poor devils that get took off is always—asphyxiated."
"But," protested Forrester, "how could they be asphyxiated when the bodies are always found out in the open air? I thought that a person must be shut up in a closed room to be asphyxiated."
"Ah-ha!" cried Green. "Now you've got the idea! These fellows have a headquarters somewhere. After they kill a guy they bring him out in an automobile and throw him alongside the road somewhere. The thing to be done now is to locate their headquarters. That's what little Benny is goin' to do!"