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Updated: May 26, 2025
A face, another, and another showed in the doorway the Wowzer was regaining his senses, stumbling to his knees. There was one chance just one to take those crowding figures by surprise. And with a yell of "Fire!" Jimmie Dale sprang for the doorway. They gave way before his rush, tumbling back in their surprise against the opposite wall; and, turning, Jimmie Dale raced down the passageway.
The Wowzer! Jimmie Dale stole forward silently, without a sound, swiftly pausing only to listen for a second's space at the doors as he passed. From this one came that clink of coin; from another that jabber of Chinese; from still another that overpowering stench of opium and once, iron-nerved as he was, a cold thrill passed over him.
Murder was too trite a thing in the underworld to cause any widespread commotion! "Hello, Wowzer!" he returned, as he shook his head. "No, I ain't heard anything." "Youse can take it from me den," said the Wowzer, "dat dere's something doin'! Dey got her!" "Got who?" enquired Jimmie Dale in a puzzled way. The Wowzer leaned forward secretively. "Silver Mag!" he said.
His tongue carried the cigarette butt languidly back to the other corner of his mouth. "Aw, go on!" said Jimmie Dale. "Try it on somebody else! Silver Mag croaked out the night they had that fire down there in the old tenement." "Yes, she did nix!" scoffed the Wowzer, with a short laugh. "De same way dat blasted snitch of a Gray Seal did eh? Say, Smarly, I'm handin' it to youse straight.
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