A Shadowed Love by Fred M. White

The mean face looked uneasily into the ring of light made by the acetylene, then the expression of it changed a little. It began to dawn upon Venner that he was not in the hands of the police at all. In his first moment of despair and anger he was about to say something very much to the detriment of his late antagonist. In his own vernacular, he had regarded the game as being up.

But the man concealed behind that blazing line of flame knew him, which was a compliment he hardly expected from the police. And there was something familiar in the voice, too. There was a bare chance for Venner after all.