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He kept beating his fist into an open palm. “I don’t want the police involved, do you hear! This is a private matter.”

“Cool off, Doc. I’m not the police. However, if you try to keep me out of this I’ll buzz one of the papers, then your privacy will really be shot to hell.”

“Whom do you represent?” he asked coldly.

“Your chauffeur, Billy Parks.”

“So?”

“So I’d like to know why you put the finger on him when you found out your kid was missing. I’d like to know why you let them mangle him without a formal charge even being lodged, and why you’re keeping all this under your hat. And by damn you better start speaking and pretty loud at that.”

“Please, Mr. Hammer.”

A hand hit my shoulder and spun me, another came up from the side and cracked across my face. The punk said, “How dare you talk to Uncle like that!”

I let him get it out then backhanded him across the mouth with all I had. This time the other one grabbed my coat. He got a short jab in the ribs that bent him over, then the palm of my hand across his puss that straightened him up again. I shoved him away and got the punk’s tie in my hand. When I was breathing in his face I twisted on the tie until the blue started running up his neck, then I smacked him on each side of that whiskey-sodden face until my hand hurt. When I dropped him he lay on the floor crying, trying to cover his face with his hands.

I spoke to the general assembly rather than to him. “In case anyone else has ideas like that, he’d better have more in his hands than a whiskey glass.”

York hadn’t missed a trick. He looked old again. The fire left his eyes and he groped for the arm of his chair. York was having a pretty rough time of it, but after having seen Billy I didn’t feel sorry for him.

I threw my butt in the fireplace and parked in the chair opposite him. He didn’t need any prompting. “Ruston was not in his bed in the morning. It had been slept in, but he was not there. We searched the house and the grounds for him, but found no trace of his presence. I must have become excited. The first thing that entered my head was that I had an ex-convict in my employ. I called the local police and reported what had taken place. They led Parks away. I’ve since regretted the incident.”

“I imagine,” I remarked dryly. “How much is it costing you to keep this quiet?”

He shuddered. “Nothing. I did offer them a reward if they could locate Ruston.”

“Oh, swell. Great. That’s all they needed. Cripes, you got a brain like a fly!” His eyes widened at that. “These local jokers aren’t cops. Sure, they’d be quiet, who wouldn’t? Do you think they’d split the kind of reward money you’d be offering if they could help it?”

I felt like rapping him in the teeth. “Throwing Billy to the wolves was stupid. Suppose he was an ex-con. With three convictions to his credit he wasn’t likely to stick his neck out for that offence. He’d be the first suspect as it was. Damn, I’d angle for Dilwick before I would Billy. He’s more the type.”

York was sweating freely. He buried his face in his hands and swayed from side to side, moaning to himself. He stopped finally, then looked up at me. “What will I do, Mr. Hammer? What can be done?”

I shook my head.

“But something must be done! I must find Ruston. After all these years . . . I can’t call the police. He’s such a sensitive boy . . . I—I’m afraid.”

“I merely represent Billy Parks, Mr. York. He called me because he was in a jam and I’m his friend. What I want from you is to give him back his job. Either that or I call the papers.”

“All right. It really doesn’t matter.” His head dropped again. I put on my hat and stood up, then, “But you? Mr. Hammer, you aren’t the police as you say. Perhaps you could help me, too.”

I threw him a straw. “Perhaps.”

He grabbed at it. “Would you? I need somebody . . . who will keep this matter silent.”

“It’ll cost you.”

“Very well, how much?”

“How much did you offer Dilwick?”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

I let out a whistle, then told