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By Root 350 0

horse, he may associate with whom he pleases, and few will inquire as to his morals, his honor, or his means of support. Mr. Delany chose to associate with the outdoor set of Lake City, where he was born, and since he was unmarried, to live at the Lakeside Club. He came of passable family, but gossip had it that his early life had been hard, and that he had improved his circumstances by paying attention to influential ladies, who had gained him entree into certain clubs. Then he had played polo. As he was even taller than Ben, who was over six feet, and thin, and a fine rider, he cut a figure at this, and acquired a rating. Then he bought horses and became a gentleman jockey. Then he began an association with bookmakers, though he promulgated the fiction that this was an amusing outgrowth of his equine activities, a matter of no importance. His associations developed into what are known as connections, particularly in Chicago, and eventually with Mr. Caspar. Now, at the age of forty, he was a lean, leathery man, who faced Ben in breeches, boots, and rough tweed coat, and spoke with a cavalryman's voice: curt, clipped, and harsh, but with a touch of the grand manner.

After the moment in which he eyed Ben as sharply as Ben eyed him, he began with no word of greeting: "All right, Grace, what did you come here about?"

"I thought I told you over the phone: Business."

"Then state it."

"Some bookies are operating downtown. You and Caspar ran those boys, I believe—you because you had a hook-up with Chicago, and he because he was Mr. Big around town here, and between the two of you it was a pretty good set-up. Well, Caspar's not here any more now, and to some extent I've taken things over. The matter I wanted to take up with you is whether you'd like to come in with me, running those bookies, and we'd do it on pretty much the same arrangement as you had with Caspar."

"No."

"It would be unfortunate if those bookies got closed."

"The answer is still no."

"May I ask why?"

"You killed my brother."

For the first time Ben realized that the eyes that glowered across the table at him held hate, not merely ill-humor. He licked his lips, blinked, heard himself say: "I—I didn't kill your brother."

"Not alone. Caspar instigated it, if that's what you mean. But you were in it. You were one of those rats and you helped dispose of his body."

"Wait a minute, Mr. Delany. I was not in on it. I drove Caspar the night it was done, and I knew something was afoot. But that often happened with Sol, as you may imagine, and I give you my word I knew nothing about your brother until two days later, when they lifted him out of Koquabit Narrows. I thought it was Arch Rossi they had got, if you have to know what I thought. And you may be interested to know that it was I, working with Miss Lyons, who made the discovery of that body. You didn't know that, did you?"

"Yes."

"Then—"

"I knew it, and I think you played it both ways. I think you helped kill my brother, and then I think you crossed Caspar, and showed June Lyons where the body was. Now get this, Grace. I didn't want to see you at all. But for the last week you've been calling me and sending me messages, and I thought it best to settle this with you, once and for all. In the first place if I see you again, I'm going to kill you, and I advise you to stay out of my way. In the second place, I decided to see you today in a public place, where there'd be twenty witnesses to what happened, if anything. I'm unarmed, and I have three men, within twenty feet of me as I sit here, who'll grab me if I start anything. But get this: if you don't keep out of my way you're playing with death, and nothing can save you. Now get out."

The muscles in Mr. Delany's brown, leathery cheeks began to work, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair. Ben, his eyes flickering, got up, turned, started for the door. He walked with unhurried calm, and yet his heels seemed to lift a little, just a little too quickly as he neared the door. A man, sitting near a pillar with a golf club in his hand, watched him with a