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Updated: June 23, 2025
He had been saving his biggest piece of news for the last. "If you've got anything to ask him just ask him. He's layin' there right over there on the other side of you. We all three of us rode down here together in the same amb'lance load." Ginsburg turned his head.
I went to the same school with him over on the East Side a good many years ago." "Don't forget to tell him how the wop licked the Jew," broke in the prisoner. "Remember how the scrap started?" He spat again and this time he did not miss. Ginsburg put up his gloved hand and wiped clean a face that with passion had turned a mottle of red-and-white blotches.
Few of the routine jobs about the detective bureau fell to him. He was too good for routine and his superiors recognised the fact and were governed thereby. By the rules of tradition, Ginsburg as a successful detective should have been either an Irishman or of Irish descent.
He stared at Ginsburg and a derisive grin opened a gap in his broad dark face. "Oh, be chee! We ain't strangers you and me ain't! We've met before when we was kids. Down in Henry Street, it was. I put me mark on you oncet, and if I ever feel like it I'll do it again sometime."
Since they had nothing on him, he was let go after forty-eight hours of detention; but that is not saying they did not intend, if they could and in such cases they usually can to get something on him. No man in the department had better reason to crave that consummation than Hyman Ginsburg had. With him the hope of achieving revenge became practically an obsession. It rode in his thoughts.
They do this sometimes in the case of a scourge of insects or disease. Late one evening, after Missionary Ginsburg and I had returned from a trip into the interior of the State of Bahia, we arrived in the city of Nazareth. It is a town of about 10,000 inhabitants. We were to wait here until the following morning for the boat which was to take us to Bahia.
The captain, when he reached him, was lying upon his side with his face turned away from Ginsburg and his shrapnel helmet half on and half off his head. Ginsburg stooped, putting his hands under the pits of the captain's arms, and gave a heave. The burden of the body came against him as so much dead heft; a weight limp and unresponsive, the trunk sagging, the limbs loose and unguided.
Bearing his honourable wounds, Master Ginsburg went home from battle to a tenement in Allen Street, there to be licked again for having been licked before; or, speaking with exactitude, for having been in a fight, his father being one who held by the theory that diplomacy ever should find the way out to peace when blows threatened to follow on disputation.
But Ginsburg had edged round past Casane, ready at the next warning move to take the gang leader on the flank with a quick forward rush, and inside their overcoats, the shapes of both the officers had tensed. "Call it a pinch if you want to," went on Casane. "I'd call it more of an invitation just to take a little walk with us two and then have a chat with somebody else.
His talk trailed off into grunts and he slept the sleep of a hurt tired-out boy. Satisfied that Dempsey no longer was to be considered in the rôle of a possible eavesdropper, Ginsburg nevertheless spoke cautiously as again he turned his face toward the motionless figure stretched alongside him on his left. "Listening?" he began. "Yes," gruffly. "When did you begin calling yourself Goodman?"
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