"Good Lord! Do you believe it?"
"I shall know in an hour." In reality Norvin had no doubt that his
informant told the truth. On the contrary, he found that he had been
waiting subconsciously for a hint from this mysterious but reliable
source, and now that it had come he felt confident and elated. "A leak
in the department would explain the maddening series of checkmates up
to date." After a moment's hesitation he continued: "If Gino Cressi
proves to be the boy I saw that night, we will put the rope around his
father's and his uncle's necks, for he is little more than a child, and
they evidently knew he would confess if accused; otherwise they
wouldn't have been so careful to hide him." He rose and, eying Dreux
intently, inquired, "Will you go along and help me take him?"
Bernie fell into a sudden panic of excitement. His face paled, he
blinked with incredible rapidity, his lips twitched, and he clasped his
thin, bloodless hands nervously.
"Why--are you--really--going--and alone?"
Norvin nodded. "If they have spies among our own men the least
indiscretion may give the alarm. Besides, there is no time to lose; it
would be madness to go there after dark. Will you come?"
"You--b-b-bet," Mr. Dreux stuttered. After a painful effort to control
himself he inquired, with rolling eyes, "S-say, Norvin, will there be
any fighting--any d-d-danger?"
Blake's own imagination had already presented that aspect of the matter
all too vividly.
"Yes, there may be danger," he confessed. "We may have to take the boy
by force." His nerves began to dance and quiver, as always before every
new adventure.
"Perhaps, after all, you'd better not go. I--understand how you feel."
The little man burst out in a forceful expletive.
"_Pudding!_ I _want_ to fight. D-don't you see?"
"No. I don't."
"I've never been in a row. I've never done anything brave or desperate,
like--like you. I'm aching for trouble. I go looking for it every
night."
"Really!" Blake looked his incredulity.
"Sure thing! Last night I insulted a perfectly nice gentleman just to
provoke a quarrel. I'd never seen him before, and ordinarily I hesitate
to accost strangers; but I felt as if I'd have hysterics if I couldn't
lick somebody; so I walked up to this person and told him his necktie
was in rotten taste."
"What did he say?"
"He offered to go home and change it. I was so chagrined that I--cursed
him fearfully."
"Bernie!"
Dreux nodded with an expression of the keenest satisfaction. "I could
have cried. I called him a worm, a bug, a boll-weevil; but he said he
had a family and didn't intend to be shot up by some well-dressed
desperado."
"I suppose it's the blood of your ancestors."
"I suppose it is. Now let's go get this dago boy. I'm loaded for
grizzlies, and if the Mafia cuts in I'll croak somebody." He drew a
huge rusty military revolver from somewhere inside his clothes and
flourished it so recklessly that his companion recoiled.
Together the two set out for St. Phillip Street. Blake, whose
reputation for bravery had become proverbial, went reluctantly, preyed
upon by misgivings; Dreux, the decadent, overbred dandy, went gladly,
as if thirsting for the fray.