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You come with me, Burke, and we'll nab that woman as a material witness." Burke and his superior crossed the street and quickly entered the ornate portal of Shultberger's cabaret, which was in reality the annex to his corner barroom.
Burke was chilled to the marrow and his teeth chattered, even though it was a Spring rain, and not the icy blasts of the earlier post nights. "Well, keep a sharp lookout for this crowd around Shultberger's, Mack!" He yielded, and turned toward the station house with a quick stride. He had hardly gone half a block before Maguire had reason to remember the warning.
The sergeant turned to Maguire. "You know these gangs around here, Mack. Who's this guy's girl?" "He's got three or four, sergeant," responded the officer. "I guess this one must be Dutch Annie. Was she all dolled up with about a hundred dollars' worth of ostrich feathers, Burke?" "Yes tall, and some fighter." "That's the one. Her hangout is over there on the corner, in Shultberger's cabaret.
A cry of distress came from the vestibule of Shultberger's front entrance. The lights of the saloon had been suddenly extinguished. "Sure, and that's some monkey business," thought Maguire, as he ran toward the doorway. He pounded on the pavement with his night stick, and the resonant sound stopped Burke's retreat to the station. Officer 4434 wheeled about and ran for the post he had just left.
The two men glared at him shrewdly, and then passed on by without a word. They walked half way down the block, and Burke, watching them from the corner of his eye, saw them cross the street and turn into the rear entrance of Shultberger's cabaret restaurant. "Well, he's having some high-class callers to-night," mused Burke. "Perhaps he'll need a little help after all."
The rain beat down in his face, and the men hesitated an instant, as though interrupted in some plan. It did not occur to Burke that they had approached him with a purpose. He looked at them sharply, by force of habit. Their evil faces showed pallid and grewsome in the flickering light of the arc-lamp on the corner by Shultberger's place.
"He's fixed," thought Burke, and he sprang up, to run forward to the vestibule of Shultberger's. There he found the body of Maguire sprawled out, with the blood of the Irish kings mingling with the rainwater on the East Side street. One man was hiding in the doorway's shelter. Another was scuttling down the street, to run full into the arms of an approaching roundsman.
In the back of the room a stout man in a fur overcoat arose. It was Shultberger. He came down the aisle. As he did so, unnoticed by Officer 4434, three of Shultberger's companions arose and quietly left the courtroom by the front entrance. "Oxcuse me, Chudge, but may I offer bail for my friend, little Jimmie?"
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