Mrs. Renshaw dropped her eyes and her voice dropped to a whisper. “We have a lovely daughter twelve years old. She was coming home from school when a car drove past on a street corner and a container of acid was thrown at her and two friends who were walking home together. It burned… one side of Marcia’s face badly, and spattered her two innocent companions. That’s the sort of fiends he has against him, Mr. Shayne. How can you fight that? What can a decent person do?”

Shayne shifted in his chair and avoided her gaze. He said, “I get the picture, Mrs. Renshaw. What did your husband do?”

“He disappeared. Without telling me he was going. I would have gone with him. I would have taken our children and disappeared with him, but I’d failed him before and he didn’t trust me again. He left me a note explaining what he was doing… that if he left his job and simply vanished, he thought they’d give up and leave him alone. Because if he no longer had his job, you see, there was no way they could hope to force him to pay the gambling debt, and he was convinced they would see reason and leave us alone thereafter.”

“Was he right?” asked Shayne grimly.

“In a way. We haven’t been molested since. Though I’m convinced our house is continually watched, and I suspect the Syndicate has a tap on our telephone. That’s why… when Steve telephoned me from Miami three days ago… I cut him off fast. Even so, he had time to tell me they had trailed him here and he was remaining in hiding in hourly danger of his life. You must find him for me, Mr. Shayne, before they do. Before the Syndicate’s murderous ‘enforcers’ locate him. I can convince him to go to the police for protection. I know I can. Steve will listen to me. He’s like a frightened little boy. He just isn’t thinking straight. He’s no match for them. He’s had no experience in this sort of thing. He can’t go on this way.”

“You didn’t tell the police about his call?”