To steady his nerves, he pretended that he was back in Tucson, hustling hick-town pool players in their hick-town parlor. One thing he knew for sure: if you wanted to win at pool, you had to trust yourself. At the end of the game, the dough was won by the guy who didn’t lose his nerve.

He snugged the copper tube inside his left hand and kept it hidden while he poured the strained gasoline–and–castor oil mix into the American Eagle’s tank right under Isaac Bell’s nose. That way, he wouldn’t look suspicious pulling it from a pocket. Andy came over to report that the machine was ready. Bell turned away to speak to Andy. Eustace reached for the gas cap to screw it on with his right hand.

Bell said, “Andy, let’s check the control post again.”

Eustace passed his left hand over the open mouth of the tank.

Isaac Bell’s thumb and forefinger closed around his wrist, hard as a steel shackle.

“Eustace. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

EUSTACE WEED OPENED HIS MOUTH. He could not speak. Tears welled in his eyes.

Bell watched him sternly. When he spoke, the chief investigator’s voice was glacial: “I’ll tell you what happened. You nod. Understand?”

Eustace was trembling.

“Understand?” Bell repeated.

Eustace nodded.

Bell let go his wrist, palming the copper tube as he did, shook it speculatively, then tossed it to Andy Moser, who took one look and glowered, “When the gas melts the wax, what’s inside leaks out. What is it? Water?”

Eustace Weed bit his lip and nodded.

Bell pulled a notepad from his coat. “Do you recognize this fellow?”

Eustace Weed blinked at a drawing like you’d see in the newspaper.

“A saloonkeeper in Chicago. I don’t know his name.”

“How about this one?”

“He worked for the saloonkeeper. He took me to him.”

“And this one?”

“He’s the other one who took me to see him.”

“How about this man?”

Bell showed him a sketch of a grim-faced man, more frightening than the others, who looked like a prizefighter who had never lost a bout. “No. I never saw him.”

“This fellow is a Van Dorn detective who has lived for the past two weeks across the hall from Miss Daisy Ramsey and her mother. He shares his rooms with another fellow, a bigger fellow. When one has to go out, the other is there, across the hall. When Daisy goes to work at the telephone exchange, a Van Dorn man watches the sidewalk and another watches the telephone exchange. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Eustace?”

“Daisy is safe?”

“Daisy is safe. Now, tell me everything. Quickly.”

“How do you know her name?”

“I asked you her name back in Topeka, Kansas. You told me, confirming what we were already turning up in Chicago. It’s our town.”