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Updated: May 21, 2025
His weapon rose mechanically and quite deliberately he took aim making assurance doubly sure throughout what seemed an age made sibilant by the singing past his head of the infuriated gangster's bullets. But his finger never tightened upon the trigger. November had ceased firing and was plucking nervously at the slide of his automatic.
"It means," said Jimmie Dale gravely, "that there's been some sort of a gangster's fight pulled off, and that probably there's been dirty work murder in there. The police will go the limit to round up everybody they can find who was in Baldy Jack's. There's only one thing to do keep your mouth shut and lie low to-night.
He swayed back and forth in balance to the violent motions of the Elsinore and looked on with eyes that were amused and cynical. "What does the devil look like, my man?" Captain West asked. Bert Rhine grinned sheepishly. "Answer the captain!" Mr. Pike snarled at him. Oh, it was murder, sheer murder, that leapt into the gangster's eyes for the instant, in acknowledgment of the snarl.
He knew the drift of the gangster's meaning. "You get my drive?" the gangster repeated. And I knew anger. Not ordinary anger, but cold anger. And I caught a vision of the high place in which we had sat and ruled down the ages in all lands, on all seas.
The raconteur allowed an interval for the astonishing news to be absorbed. "No sir, not a spoonful would they sell me. They wanted to give it to me by the tankful. And after I told my news of the gangster's finish and the complications incident thereto, Maddy and the Carters insisted that I take all the gas that I come up here with the news, and the problem, and work out the solution.
I had reached that nervous state where I craved something doing, as a drug-fiend craves the dope that sets his brain on fire again. I did not ask where he was going, for I knew it intuitively, and it was not long before we were again in the part of the city where the gangster's garage was located. We stopped and Garrick beckoned to an urchin, a couple of blocks below the garage.
Presently there came yet another lull in the clatter of tongues; and again the accents of the boy sounded distinctly from the gangster's table: "I won't that's flat! I refuse positively go up stairs sleep it off. I'm a' right give you m' word in the head. All my trouble's these mutinous dogs of legs. But I'll make 'em mind, yet. Trust me " And again the babel blotted out his utterance.
Music was drowned out by gunfire, the dance replaced by the shuffle of cowboy and rustler advancing down a dusty street toward each other, their fingertips brushing the grips of their six-shooters, the comedian's banter fell away before the chatter of the gangster's tommy gun. And increasing realism was demanded.
Under his breath Jimmie Dale cursed the gangster's bungling methods and not for their crudity alone.
She heard a furious wrangle between Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, and that rascal Pere Colombe. There was a thief of a landlord who wanted one to pay for what one had not had! Yet one was not at a gangster's hang-out. Suddenly there was a scuffling, yells were heard and tables were upset.
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