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Updated: June 28, 2025
Simultaneously there flashed through the minds of both in rapid succession a series of recollections of their previous meetings. The girl saw the clerk at the stocking-counter, the waiter at Feinheimer's, the prize-fighter at the training quarters and the milk-wagon driver. All these things passed through her mind in the brief instant of the introduction and her acknowledgment of it.
There was Steve Murray, the labor leader, whom rumor said was one of Feinheimer's financial backers a large man with a loud voice and the table manners of a Duroc-Jersey. Jimmy took an instinctive dislike to the man the first time that he saw him. And then there was Little Eva, whose real name was Edith.
It was the first indication that he had ever had from an habitue of Feinheimer's that there might lurk within their breasts any of the finer characteristics whose outward indices are pride and shame. He was momentarily at a loss as to what to say, and as he hesitated the girl's gaze went past him and she exclaimed: "Look who's here!"
The one which he liked dominated her at breakfast; the other which he loathed guided her actions later in the evening. Neither of them ever referred to those hours of her life, and as the days passed Jimmy found himself looking forward to the hour when Little Eva would come to Feinheimer's for her breakfast. It was Christmas Eve.
He was big and strong, and the fact that Feinheimer always retained one or two powerful men upon his payroll accounted in a large measure for the orderliness of his place. Occasionally one might start something at Feinheimer's, but no one was ever known to finish what he started.
He handed Murray the slip of soiled wrapping paper with the threat lettered upon it. "This was received with your letter." Murray hesitated before replying. "Oh," he said, "that ain't nothing. That was just a little joke." "You were seen in Feinheimer's with Mr. Bince on March Do you recall the object of this meeting?" "Mr.
Say, those birds have been weeping on each other's shoulders ever since." "Do you still breakfast at Feinheimer's?" asked Jimmy. "Once in a while," said the girl, "but not so often now." And she dropped her eyes to the ground in what, in another than Little Eva, might have been construed as embarrassment. "Where you going now?" she asked quickly.
"Where are they?" "They will all be in the safe in Mr. Compton's office." Krovac knitted his brows in thought for several moments. "Say," he said, "we can do the whole thing with one job." "What do you mean?" asked Bince, "We can get rid of this Torrance guy and get the records, too." "How?" asked Bince. "Do you know where Feinheimer's is?" "Yes."
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