She changed front instantly. Fear seemed to have her in its grip again.
“Youse won't do dat!” She was whimpering suddenly. “My Gawd, youse won't do dat!”
“It depends,” said Jimmie Dale.
“Den take it!” she mumbled in a frenzied way—and from the loosened blouse a small shower of banknotes fluttered to the floor.
Jimmie Dale stooped and gathered them up.
“That's better!” he observed coolly. “And now we'll go a little further, Mother Margot. I want quite a lot of information. First, this Limpy Mack's dump, as you called it on the stairs. Does he live there alone?”
“Oh, my Gawd!” She was wringing her hands together in terror. “Youse ain't still goin' dere, are youse? Youse ain't goin' to tell him, are youse? He'd pass de word along, an' if de Chief got wise dey'd bump me off for dis. I—dey'd clean me up before de mornin'!”
“So I imagined,” said Jimmie Dale calmly. “That's why I refrained from any interference upstairs. You see, Mother Margot, I rather think we have become indispensable to each other.”
“I dunno wot youse mean,” she faltered.
“I mean this,” said Jimmie Dale coldly, “that if you play straight with me, you are safe in so far as what you put over on your precious pals is concerned. Otherwise—” He shrugged his shoulders. “Is it quite plain?”
Mother Margot licked her lips feverishly.
“Dey'd cut me t'roat!” she whispered. “Dat's wot dey'd do. Wot do youse want? I—I ain't got no chance, have I?”
“We started with Limpy Mack, and we'll finish with him first,” said Jimmie Dale tersely; “though you've just mentioned something much more important. Well, does he live alone?”
“Sure, he lives alone,” Mother Margot answered. “He's got de basement——”
“Under Sen Yat's,” completed Jimmie Dale smoothly. “All right! Now, the really important matter. This Chief you mentioned—who is he?”
Mother Margot shook her head.
“I dunno,” she said.
“You don't know!” Jimmie Dale's voice hardened. “That won't do, Mother Margot! I wouldn't advise you to try another trick to-night.”
“I ain't!” she protested wildly. “Honest to Gawd, I ain't! I dunno!” She was wringing her hands together again. “He ain't nobody, he's”—she glanced furtively around her, the act seemingly almost subconscious—“he's—he's just a voice.”
Jimmie Dale studied her for a moment. The woman was evidently too frightened to be anything but truthful.
“Well, go on!” he prodded.
“Dat's all I knows about him,” said Mother Margot fearfully. “Just a voice over de telephone dat youse're always wise to 'cause it's a kind of a queer, thick voice.”
“Is that the way you get your orders, then?”
Mother Margot nodded assent.
“But there isn't any telephone in your room,” said Jimmie Dale sharply. “I happen to know that you've just moved in where another pal of yours, Mr. Isaac Shiftel, used to live.”
Mother Margot swallowed hard. She drew back a little.
“How'd youse know?” she stammered.
“Never mind! How about that telephone?”
“It ain't done in de room,” she said tremulously. “I didn't know anythin' about to-night at all. Den dis afternoon w'en I was wid my pushcart down on Thompson Street I'm called into a store to de telephone, an'——”
“What store? Where is this telephone?” Jimmie Dale interrupted tersely.
She hesitated.
“Aw, it's in a booth in de back room of Mezzo's second-hand store, if youse've got to know,” she blurted out.
“All right,” said Jimmie Dale. “Go on!”
“Well, I was called to de telephone,” she said, “an' told to go to de Wistaria Café to-night an' meet Limpy Mack.”
“And Little Sweeney,” added Jimmie Dale quietly; then abruptly: “Who else is in this gang?”
Again Mother Margot shook her head.
“I dunno dem all,” she said. “I guess we don't all know each other neither. I only know Limpy Mack an' Shiftel, an' a man named Laroque; but I ain't seen neither of dem last two for weeks, an' I dunno where dey've gone. Little Sweeney was a new one on me to-night.”
“H'm!” observed Jimmie Dale curtly. “Then who fixed it for you to move into Shiftel's rooms?”
“The Voice,” she replied readily. “I was told to go an' hand de agent de rent in advance.”
“Good!” said Jimmie Dale pleasantly. “We're getting on, Mother Margot; and since you and I have become such friends, I'm going to take the liberty of calling on you in a day or so—unless perhaps you can tell me how, well, say, a man like Shiftel can get in or out of those rooms without bothering himself with either doors or windows?”
She drew still farther back, a startled look and a new terror in her face.
“I know who youse are now,” she gasped. “Little Sweeney an' Limpy was talkin' about youse. Youse are de Gray Seal! My Gawd!” She wrung her hands. “Don't youse come dere! I'm playin' straight wid youse. I don't know why, an' I don't know nothin' phoney about de rooms, but I knows dat's wot dey wants youse to do.”
Again Jimmie Dale studied the dishevelled and distraught creature.
“Yes,” he said quietly, “so I believe, and I believe you are playing straight. Well, we'll leave the rooms in abeyance for the time being. I shall always know where to find you—on Thompson Street. You may be called to the phone by another voice. Now, one thing more, Mother Margot—I don't want to keep Limpy Mack waiting! What was that paper Little Sweeney gave Limpy Mack in the back room of the Wistaria to-night?”
“Youse—youse know about dat, too?” She stared at him in terrified amazement.
“What was it?” repeated Jimmie Dale.
“Dey didn't let me see it,” she said. “Some sort of dope about de gang, I guess, 'cause Little Sweeney was a new man. Little Sweeney just says, 'I got it pat,' he says, w'en he hands it over. I dunno wot was in it; dey didn't let me see it.”
“Perhaps Limpy will be more considerate with me,” observed Jimmie Dale dryly. He motioned along the hall, switched off the flashlight, and taking Mother Margot's arm, led her into the shop. “You go home now,” he ordered.
She hesitated. His hand still on her arm, he felt her shiver.
“If youse—youse're goin' to Limpy Mack's,” she quavered, “youse—youse won't split on me? Swear youse won't! Dey—dey'd kill me before de mornin'!”
“You needn't worry,” said Jimmie Dale gruffly. “As long as you play straight with me, it's as much to my interest as yours to see that no harm comes to you. You're out of this. The only person I know is Limpy Mack, whom I saw come out of here alone—understand?—and I followed him because I thought perhaps he had made a little haul that—since you've saved me introducing myself—the Gray Seal could use himself.”
“My Gawd!” She was whimpering again. “I—I'm afraid. Youse swear it?”
Jimmie Dale opened the door, and with a precautionary glance up