“I dunno what that’s got to do with it, but the feller’s name is Paddington, an’ he’s the worst kind of a crook––a ’tec gone wrong. At least, that’s what they say about him, but I ain’t got nothin’ on him; I don’t believe I ever seen the man, that I know of. He’s worked on a lot of shady cases; I know that much, an’ he’s clever. More’n a dozen crooks are floatin’ around town that would be up the river if he told what he knew about ’em; so naturally, he owns ’em, body an’ soul. Not that Charley’s one that’d go up––he’s only in it for the coin––but I’d rather see him get pinched an’ do time for pullin’ off somethin’ on his own account, than runnin’ around doin’ dirty work for a man who ain’t in his 182 father’s class, or mine. He’s a disgrace; that’s what Charley is––a plain disgrace.”
Pennold’s voice rang out in highly virtuous indignation. Morrow forbore to smile at the oblique moral viewpoint of the old crook.
“What does he look like?” he asked. “Short and slim, isn’t he, with a small dark mustache?”
“That’s him!” ejaculated Pennold disgustedly. “Dresses like a dude, an’ chases after a bunch of skirts! Spreads himself like a ward politician when he gets a chance! He’s my nephew, all right, but as long as he won’t run straight, same as I’m doin’ now, I’d rather he’d crack a crib than play errand boy for a man I wouldn’t trust on look-out!”
“Where does Charley live?” asked Morrow.
“How should I know? He hangs out at Lafferty’s saloon, down on Sand Street, when he ain’t off on some steer or other––leastways he used to.”
Morrow folded the warrant slowly, in the pause which ensued, and returned it to his pocket while the couple watched him tensely.
“All right, Pennold,” he said, at last. “I guess I won’t have to use this now. If you’ve been square, an’ told me all you know, you won’t be bothered about that matter of the Mortimer Chase silver plate. If you’ve kept anything back, Blaine will find it out, and then it’s good-night to you.”
“I ain’t!” returned Pennold, with tremendous eagerness. “I’ve told you everything you asked, an’ I don’t savvy what you’re gettin’ at, anyway. If you’re tryin’ to mix Jimmy Brunell up in any new case you’re dead wrong; he’s out of the game for good. As for Charley, he wouldn’t know enough to pick up a pocket-book if he saw one lyin’ on the sidewalk, unless he was told to!”