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"He didn't say?" echoed Rhoda Gray, a little tartly. "Wot d'youse mean, he didn't say? Have youse seen him?" Shluker jerked his hand toward the telephone instrument on the desk. "He was talkin' to me a little while ago." "Well, den" Rhoda Gray risked a more peremptory tone "where is he?" Shluker shook his head again. "I dunno," he said. "I'm tellin' you, he didn't say."
"One of these days," interrupted Shluker sharply, "you'll go out like" he snapped his fingers "that!" "Can't you leave the stuff alone?" "I got to have me bit of coke," Pinkie answered, with a shrug of his shoulders. "An', anyway, I'm no pipe-hitter. "It's all the same whatever way you take it!" retorted Shluker. "Well, go on with your story.
What chance would the Sparrow have had! It had taken a long time. She did not know how long, as, at last, she stole unnoticed into a black and narrow driveway that led in, between two blocks of down-at-the-heels tenements, to a courtyard in the rear. Shluker had his junk shop here. Her lips pursed up as though defiant of a tinge of perplexity that had suddenly taken possession of her.
She did not know Shluker, or anything about Shluker's place except its locality; but surely "the old room behind Shluker's" was direction enough, and She had just emerged from the end of the driveway now, and now, startled, she turned her head quickly, as she heard a brisk step turning in from the street behind her.
"Mabbe she ain't well! Tell us about it, Nan!" "When I do," she said complacently, "mabbe youse'll smile out of de other corner of dat mouth of yers!" She turned to Shluker. "Youse needn't lay awake waitin' fer dat thousand, Shluker, 'cause youse'll never see it. De little game's all off 'cause it's already been pulled. See?
There ain't no place in New York you can get in an' out of without nobody knowin' it like Charlie's, if you know the way, an " "Aw, write de rest of it down in yer memoirs!" interposed the Pug impatiently and moved toward the door. "It's all right, Shluker all de way. Now, everybody beat it, an' get on de job. Nan, youse sticks wid Pinkie an' me."
"Are you tryin' to make a fool of me?" he half screamed. "Or can't you understand English? D'ye want me to keep on tellin' you till I'm hoarse that there ain't nobody goin' in with you, because you am't goin' in yourself! See? Understand that? There's nothing doin' to-night for anybody and that means you!" "Aw, shut up, Shluker!"
Puzzled, bewildered, a little uneasy, she watched him lock the door, and then followed him across the courtyard, while he continued to mutter constantly to himself. "Wot's de matter?" she asked him twice. But it was not until they had reached the street, and Shluker was hurrying along as fast as he could walk, that he answered her. "It's the Pug and Pinkie Bonn!" he jerked out angrily.
Perhaps to Shluker, and perhaps to all the rest of the gang except Danglar! Gypsy Nan was accepted at face value as just Gypsy Nan; and, if that were so, the idea of playing up a natural wifely anxiety on Danglar's behalf could not be used unless Shluker gave her a lead in that direction. But, all that apart, she was getting nowhere. She bit her lips in disappointment.
Rhoda Gray, her mind in confusion, found herself being crowded hurriedly through the doorway by the three men. Still in a mentally confused condition, she found herself, a few minutes later Shluker having parted company with them walking along the street between Pinkie Bonn and the Pug. She was fighting desperately to obtain a rip upon herself.
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