The room was small and dark, the only light coming from an electric lamp
over an old-fashioned, battered roll-top desk that completely filled the
wall at one end. Between John and Murphy and the desk was a scarred oak
table behind which sat a thin-faced man, an unlighted cigar protruding
from a corner of his mouth.
"Shut the door," said the man, without removing the cigar.
John closed the door.
"Who's this with you, Murphy?" the man snapped out his words and eyed
John keenly.
"He's all right, Slim," Murphy replied.
"Sure?" asked "Slim," quizzically.
"I ain't gonna let anybody fool you or me, am I, Slim?"
"Not if you want to stay alive," returned "Slim." "Was he picked up in
the raid, too?"
"He was wit me all through it," said Murphy.
"All right, then, I'll take your word for it, Murphy," said the man
behind the desk. "But remember, if he's a stoolie, you're the bird
that's going to get it."
"Don't I know?" Murphy assured him.
"Where's your tag?" asked "Slim."
Murphy produced the receipt for his bail money and tossed it on the
table. "Slim" examined it and then, without looking up, asked:
"And where's yours?"
John noticed Murphy's almost imperceptible jerk of his head. He drew his
bail receipt from his pocket and tossed it on the table as Murphy had
done. Holding the slip of paper in both hands "Slim" examined it
closely, looked up inquiringly at John, and then reached into his
pocket, bringing forth a thick roll of bills. He snapped the rubber band
from the roll and extracted from it four bills. Returning the roll to
his pocket he divided the four bills equally and pushed them across the
table.
Murphy took two of the bills and John reached out his hand for the other
two. As his fingers touched the bills, "Slim's" hand closed down on
them.
"Just a minute," he heard "Slim" say. His nerves jerked tight as he
looked down into the thin, hard face of the man in the chair. For two or
three seconds they looked into each other's eyes. Then "Slim" spoke.
"You're on the square with Murphy and me?" he asked.
John nodded his head. "Slim" still held his hand on the bills.
"Say it," he demanded.
"I'm on the square with you," John said.
"Slim" released his hand.
"All right, beat it now and forget you ever saw me," he said. John and
Murphy left the room, each with two $10 bills. The red-faced man with
the greasy derby winked at John as they passed him. They hurried through
the afternoon crowd in Spring street until they were a block from the
saloon.
John was the first to speak.
"Murphy," he said, "who is this man, 'Slim'?"
"'Slim's' da right-hand man for da 'Gink.' He's one of da few birds da
'Gink' will trust. And he's one hard-boiled guy, believe me."
"Whose money was that he paid us?"
"Well," Murphy replied, "'Slim' gets his jack from da 'Gink.'"
"Are you sure of that?"
"Say, whatcha think 'Slim' is, a Christmas tree?"
"Now, let me get this right," said John. "The 'Gink' knew this raid was
coming off. He arranged with you and most of the others who were
arrested to be at the places to be raided so that Gibson's men would
have a crowd to take to central station. Then each of those who were
arrested and who were 'in on the know,' as you say, were given the $10
they put up for bail and $10 extra for being on hand to be arrested. Is
that it?"
"Dat's it."
"And you figure that the 'Gink' wanted Gibson's raid to be a success
because the 'Gink' has split with the bookmakers and wants to make
trouble for them?"
"Dat's da way I dope it," Murphy assented.
"And we forfeit our bail and forget all about it?"
"Sure."
"If any more of these framed-up raids are made, will you know about it?"
John asked.
"Sure, dey always fix it for us regular guys."
"Well, Murphy," said John, halting at a corner, "I'm going to ask you to
do something for me. If you find out that anything like this is going to
happen again, will you let me know about it?"
"Sure thing; where can I get ya?"
John gave him the number of the reporters' telephone at his office. In
exchange Murphy gave him the address of his room, in East Third street.
"You won't forget?" cautioned John as they shook hands. Murphy promised
him again and they separated after John had thanked him for letting him
"in on the know."
He hurried back toward the office, stopping only to buy the late
edition of his paper. Across the top of the front page, in big, heavy
black type, was the headline: "Gibson Leads Big Spring Street Raid."
Under this and above the story of the raid was another "head" which
read: "Commissioner Says He's After 'Gink' Cummings; 200 Arrested." The
photograph of Gibson standing near the men arrested in the raid, which
John had noticed him posing for, occupied a four-column space.
At the office P. Q. greeted him with a scowl.
"Well, where have you been all afternoon?" the city editor demanded.
"I was picked up in Gibson's raid," John replied.
"What's the big idea?"
"I didn't have any idea of getting arrested. And I think I've discovered
something big."
"What do you mean, big?" Then John told him the story of his experience
from beginning to end, producing the two $10 bills as evidence. He
related all that Murphy had told him and how Murphy had promised to tell
him in advance of a repetition of the occurrence.
P. Q. listened to him attentively, whistling softly when he had
finished.
"Do you think Murphy is right in believing that the 'Gink's' only motive
was to make trouble for the bookmakers?" he asked. "Personally, I doubt
if the 'Gink' would play into the hands of Gibson like that even if he
was fighting the bookmakers, providing, of course, that he has reason to
fear Gibson."
Before John could reply Brennan appeared and the whole story was related
to him.
"Your friend, Murphy, is off on the wrong foot," Brennan said. "Don't
you know what's happening? The 'Gink' is playing Gibson's game and
Gibson is playing his just like the mayor suspects. Someone has told
Gibson that people are wondering why he doesn't start after the 'Gink.'
So what does he do? He arranges with the 'Gink' to put on a grandstand
raid in Spring street and Cummings fixes it with your friend, Murphy,
and the others to submit to arrest, paying their bail money and adding
$10 to it to compensate them for their trouble, and Gibson is able to
make a big showing.
"Don't you suppose that the 'Gink' would realize that the minute he
tried doing what your friend Murphy thinks, some one of the bookmakers
would get wise to it and holler?"
"That's my idea of it," put in P. Q.
John was astounded at Brennan's revelation. Clearly Brennan's view of
the case was more reasonable, more logical, than that given him by
Murphy. He remembered having told Gibson when they met in Consuello's
dressing room that newspapermen were questioning why he did not attack
"Gink" Cummings and he remembered Gibson's answer that he was about to
make such a move.
"By George, Gallant," exclaimed Brennan, "your little experience this
afternoon is liable to turn the town over, if I'm not mistaken. That's
why Gibson came out with a statement after the raid denouncing the
'Gink' and claiming that he had gone right into the 'Gink's' territory
to demonstrate to the people that he was out to get Cummings. It's a
frame-up from start to finish. The 'Gink's' smart enough to know that
Gibson couldn't carry through his plan to overthrow the administration
unless he made some pretense of opposing him and so he fixes up this
raid."
"The question is, What are we going to do with what we have?" commented
the city editor. "Do you suppose Murphy would come through with an
affidavit?"
"Not unless we furnished him with protection," said John.
"As it stands," said Brennan, "we have Gallant's story and only our
conclusions as to what was back of it all. We haven't quite enough yet.
For example, this fellow 'Slim,' who paid you the money may be the
'Gink's' right-hand man, all right, but how are we going to prove it?
And, besides, all we know is that Gallant and Murphy were paid off. We
don't actually know that anyone else received their bail money back and
$10 on top of it.
"This information that Gallant has brought in satisfies me beyond all
doubt that the mayor's right in suspecting that the 'Gink' is back of
Gibson. But, before we shoot, it seems to me that we ought to have a
little more stuff. We've got to show that Gibson and the 'Gink' are
actually working together."
"Brennan's right," P. Q. concurred. "Your story is dynamite, Gallant,
but we need a fuse to explode it. We had better sit tight and if it
occurs again be in on it so that we can get something to show beyond all
doubt that Gibson is a faker and a tool of the 'Gink.' In the meantime,
Gallant, you keep in close touch with your friend Murphy."
"What about putting it up to Gibson and seeing what he has to say?" John
suggested.
"What about it, Brennan?" asked P. Q.
"That wouldn't get us anywhere," said Brennan. "And if Gibson is playing
the 'Gink's' game it would only warn him that we have reason to suspect
him and they'd be so careful we'd never have a chance to upset them.
Your idea is the best, P. Q. Sit tight for a while and see what happens
next."
* * * * *
John told the story of his experience in Gibson's raid on the Spring
street bookmakers to two other persons, the mayor and the publisher of
the paper that employed him, Cyrus W. Phillips, known fraternally to his
men as the "chief." He was accompanied to the private office of the
publisher by P. Q., who informed him that his discovery of what could be
regarded as evidence that there was an alliance between Gibson and
"Gink" Cummings had brought the situation to a point where orders were
to be given by the "chief," who supervised the policy of the paper.
Mr. Phillips, a keen-eyed, energetic man, who unselfishly bestowed the
credit for the success of his newspaper on the men who worked under him,
listened to John's story with interest. It was John's first meeting with
the "chief," for whom even Brennan, with all his skepticism, had a
profound respect and the rapidity with which the publisher gave his
decision won his admiration.
"The policy of this paper has been to keep out of politics," he said,
"but this young man's story, with what it undoubtedly suggests, brings
us face to face with the duty we have always endeavored to fulfill, that
is, to attack graft and corruption wherever we find them. We have no
pledge to support either the mayor or Commissioner Gibson and we are
only for the one who is doing the right thing in the right way.
"'Gink' Cummings and men of his type we regard as a menace to Los
Angeles against whom every effort should be made. If Gibson is a
masquerader in league with Cummings he must be exposed. If this is only
an attempt at political retaliation by the mayor we must condemn it.
"We have indisputable evidence that the raid was framed by Cummings, but
whether he acted to make trouble for the bookmakers or to enable Gibson
to make a big showing we do not know. The more logical view to take is
that there may be an alliance between Gibson and Cummings, improbable as
it may appear. But we must not pre-judge nor act hastily.
"Commissioner Gibson has the support of the churches and the business
men of Los Angeles. If he has deceived them and is only a tool for
Cummings, he is the most infamous imposter that the city has ever known
and it would be a big thing for us as well as a great deed in behalf of
the city if we are able to expose him. On the other hand, if Gibson is
really what he claims to be and what his supporters believe him to be,
he is working for the betterment of Los Angeles and is entitled to our
unqualified support.
"Consequently, we must keep our eyes open. We must work to establish
beyond all doubt Gibson's sincerity or duplicity. What we do must be
fair and fearless and with only one object, the welfare of the city of
Los Angeles."
"Would it be advisable to let the mayor hear Gallant's story?" asked P.
Q.
"Only with the distinct understanding that it is not to be used by him
for any purpose whatsoever and that we are taking a strictly neutral
position on it, even inclining to the view that it does not necessarily
indicate that Gibson and Cummings are in a conspiracy," the publisher
replied. "I can say this much to you, I admire the mayor for having made
an enemy of 'Gink' Cummings."
As they left his office the "chief" shook hands with John.
"P. Q. tells me you have not been with us long," he said. "The
information you have obtained for us is very important and you did well.
I want you to feel that you know me now and that I am very glad you are
with us."
He visited the mayor's office in company with Brennan to whom P. Q. had
imparted the publisher's instructions. The mayor's secretary ushered
them into his office immediately. He greeted them both warmly and opened
the conversation with a question directed to Brennan.
"What do you make of Gibson's raid yesterday?" he asked.
"We'll answer that by telling you something mighty interesting," said
Brennan. "Gallant here has some information that will knock your eye
out."
Once again John told his story, from beginning to end. As he related it
the mayor sat upright in his chair, listening so intently to every word
that the fire at the end of his cigar died out and the ash dropped
unnoticed on his coat front. When John concluded the mayor bounced out
of his chair, circled his desk and seizing him by the hand exclaimed:
"My boy, you've done it!"
John's story seemed to have rejuvenated him. He shook hands with
Brennan, went back to his desk, sat down, bounced up again, wasted five
matches in a vain attempt to relight his cigar and then chose a fresh
one from a box he took from a drawer.
"I know that fellow 'Slim' who paid you the money," the mayor went on.
"His name is Gray and he IS the 'Gink's' right-hand man; has been for
years. It almost made me believe Gibson might be straight when he
conducted that raid yesterday. I was beginning to wonder if I wasn't
mistaken, after all, but now I'm convinced for once and all that he is
the 'Gink's' man. I'm willing to wager my life that he and Cummings
arranged for that raid yesterday because they knew that people were
beginning to ask themselves why he didn't get after the 'Gink.'
"What a shrewd pair they are! I've got the fight of my life on my hands
now and you, my boy"--to Gallant--"have done something for me I'll never
forget. Brennan, what are you going to do with this evidence?"
Brennan explained how the matter had been presented to the publisher of
their paper and related what the "chief" had said to John and P. Q. He
cautioned the mayor that John's story was not to be used by him or
revealed to anyone.
"Trust me," assured the mayor. "But can I rely upon you boys to keep me
in touch with what develops?"
"We will tell you everything we are permitted to disclose," promised
Brennan. "In return for what information we give you we will expect you
to furnish us with what information comes into your hands."
"Agreed," said the mayor.
Brennan and John rose to leave. The mayor came from behind his desk and
with his arms around their shoulders walked with them to the door. There
he chuckled, and, leaning toward them, said:
"Boys, I guess your old Uncle Dudley isn't such a so-and-so kind of an
old fool after all, is he?"
From the city hall John and Brennan, by previous arrangement, sought out
Murphy, whom they found at the East Third street rooming house, the
address of which he had given John. His room was cheaply furnished and
the walls of it decorated with prints of boxers, sporting life notables,
knockout fight pictures and photographs of shapely bathing beauties in
one-piece suits. He appeared surprised when the two reporters entered as
he opened the door.
"Murphy," said John, "this is Brennan, a friend of mine. We want to have
a little talk with you."
"Glad to meet a friend of da Gallant kid," Murphy said, shaking hands
with Brennan. He reached into a drawer and brought out a quart bottle of
whisky which he placed on a table with a single glass into which he
poured a generous portion.
"Drink up, gents, and do your stuff," he invited.
John did the talking. He explained to Murphy that he and Brennan were
newspaper men and that he had told Brennan of their experience in the
raid and their meeting with "Slim" Gray.
"Hey, back up," Murphy interrupted. "Let me get ya straight. Are you
birds plannin' to show 'Slim' and the 'Gink' up?"
"Murphy," said John, "can we trust you?"
"I went da limit for you, didn't I?" asked Murphy, looking at John.
"You did," agreed John, remembering how Murphy had vouched for him to
"Slim" Gray. "That's why we're here now. We figure you can help us and
if you do we'll see that you are taken care of."
"You're straight with dat?"
"Absolutely."
"Well, do your stuff, then, do your stuff!"
At a nod from Brennan, John placed the whole situation before Murphy,
explaining every part of it carefully.
"Now, what we want you to do is this," he said. "We want you to find out
everything you can about what the 'Gink' is doing and let us know as
soon as you learn it."
Murphy listened without interrupting until John had finished.
"Do you know what'll happen to me if de 'Gink' finds I'm peachin' on
him?" he asked.
"We have an idea----" John began.
"An idea!" Murphy exclaimed, contemptuously. "Well, I got more than an
idea, see? I know what'd happen to me, see? I get my head kicked in,
see?"
"We'll promise you that for every piece of information you give us
you'll get enough money to make it worth your while," put in Brennan.
"Dat's straight?" asked Murphy, turning to John.
"That's straight," John assured him.
They left a few minutes later with Murphy's pledge, given with an oath
worded far stronger than the customary legal one, to act as their
informant and to keep secret every word they had told him.
"De 'Gink's' no pal of mine, see?" said Murphy as they left his room.
"I'm wise enough to know that he'd cross me in a minute, see?"
The interrogative "see?" that Murphy used to punctuate his sentences was
invariably accompanied with a gesture of his hand that resembled a
baseball umpire's gesture in calling a runner safe at a base more than
anything John could think of.
Before dinner that night Mrs. Gallant handed him an envelope which she
said she received in the afternoon's mail. It was addressed to him and
opening it he found that it was a note from Consuello.
"My dear Mr. Gallant," he read, "could you and your dear mother
accompany me home Sunday for dinner? I can arrange to call for you and
bring you home in the car. I would be delighted to have you with me and
am anxious for father and mother to meet Mrs. Gallant. Cordially,
Consuello Carrillo."