"And we certainly try to keep the confidence of the boys," Kettleman said maddeningly. "We wouldn't betray them to the police in any way unless it were absolutely necessary."
"Betray them—? Mr. Kettleman," Malone said, "just what are you trying to tell me?"
"It's about their meeting place," Kettleman said. "Oh, my. I'm not at all sure I ought to tell you this." He wrung his pale fat hands together and looked at Malone appealingly.
"Now, now," Malone said, feeling foolish. "It's perfectly all right. We don't want to hurt the Spooks. Not any more than we have to. You can tell me, Mr. Kettleman."
"Oh," Kettleman said. "Well. I—The Spooks do have a sort of secret meeting place, you know. And they meet there."
He stopped. Malone said: "Where is it?"
"Oh, it's a big empty warehouse," Kettleman said. "I really feel terrible about this. They're meeting there tonight some time, or that's what the rumors say. I shouldn't be telling you—"
"Of course you should," Malone said, trying to sound reassuring. "Don't worry about a thing, Mr. Kettleman. Tonight?"
"That's right," Kettleman said eagerly. He grinned and then looked morosely down at his hands.
"Do you know where this warehouse is?" Malone said. "If any of the other little social groups use it—"