Racing Forms“Craig’s up to something,” Morrow said. “I know that look in his eyes. You haven’t killed anyone lately, have you, Silent?”
The gambler furrowed his brow in mock thought. “Now, let me think.”
Getting out of the car Craig crossed the walk and tapped Morrow’s chest with a thick finger. “I want to talk to you, Bill. Where were you between the hours of two o’clock and six o’clock this morning?”
Morrow lighted a fresh cigarette. “Why should I tell you?”
Craig said, “Because you’ll either tell me of your own accord or I’m going to take you down to my office and try a rubber hose on you for size.” He looked at Smith. “And you stay out of this, Silent. The Department is up to here with you attempting to play God.”
“So,” the gambler admitted quietly, “you have told me several times
