You'll know what it is when
you go out and take a look at Doyle's house in Pelham. Yours truly, A
FRIEND."
Mike Hagan did not speak--his lips were twitching, and there was horror
creeping into his eyes.
"D'ye get me!" sneered Connie Myers. "Tell your story--who'd believe it!
I got you cinched. Twice I tried to get this old dub's coin out here,
and couldn't find it. But the second time I found something else--a
piece of paper with a drawing of the fireplace on it, and a place in the
drawing marked with an X. That was good enough, wasn't it? That's
the paper I stuck under your table this afternoon when your wife was
out--see? Somebody's got to stand for the job, and if it's somebody else
it won't be me--get me! When I had a look at that fireplace I knew I
couldn't do the job alone in a week, and I didn't dare blast it with
'soup' for fear of spoiling what was inside. And since I had to have
somebody to help me, I thought I might as well let him help me all the
way through--and stand for it. I picked you, Mike--that's why I croaked
old Doyle in your tenement to-night. I wrote this letter while I was
waiting for you to show up at the station to come out here with me, and
I'm going to see that the police get it in the next hour. When they
find Doyle in the room below yours, and that paper in your room, and the
busted fireplace here--I guess they won't look any farther for who did
it.
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