It was fortunate that this was the day of Peter's meeting with McGivney. He could really not have kept this wonderful secret to himself over night. He made excuses to the girls, and dodged thru the chicken-yard as before, and made his way to the American House. As he walked, Peter's mind was working busily. He had really got his grip on the ladder of prosperity now; he must not fail to tighten it.

McGivney saw right away from Peter's face that something had happened. "Well?" he inquired.

"I've got it!" exclaimed Peter.

"Got what?"

"The name of the spy in the jail."

"Christ! You don't mean it!" cried the other.

"No doubt about it," answered Peter.

"Who is he?"

Peter clenched his hands and summoned his resolution. "First," he said, "you and me got to have an understanding. Mr. Guffey said I was to be paid, but he didn't say how much, or when."

"Oh, hell!" said McGivney. "If you've got the name of that spy, you don't need to worry about your reward."

"Well, that's all right," said Peter, "but I'd like to know what I'm to get and how I'm to get it."

"How much do you want?" demanded the man with the face of a rat. Rat-like, he was retreating into a corner, his sharp black eyes watching his enemy. "How much?" he repeated.

Peter had tried his best to rise to this occasion. Was he not working for the greatest and richest concern in American City, the Traction Trust? Tens and hundreds of millions of dollars they were worth—he had no idea how much, but he knew they could afford to pay for his secret. "I think it ought to be worth two hundred dollars," he said.

"Sure," said McGivney, "that's all right. We'll pay you that."