great volume of smoke and slowly expelled it.

“Well,” said he, “what’s your opinion on that?”

65

65

Hank was sitting almost like Rodin’s Thinker. Then he uncoiled a bit.

“Do those guys on the Heart know where the Dutchman’s to be found?” asked he.

“No, they don’t.”

“Do they know where the boodle is?”

“N’more than Adam.”

“Do they know you know where it is?”

“They suspect. That’s my trouble—what’s this I’m saying, ‘suspect’. Why it’s more than that now. Now I’ve run away from them they’ll know for certain.”

“And if they catch you?”

“They’ll drill me, sure.”

“Was that guy with the patch, McGinnis?”

“Nope—Thacker, McGinnis’s right hand man.”

Hank brooded.

Then said he: “Were you a friend of the Dutchman?”

“What you mean to ask,” said the other, “is, am I letting him down? I’ll just tell you, the Dutchman has been my enemy, but I’m not moving in this because I have a grouch against him. I’m playing my own game, but it’s a straight game.”

Hank brooded a second more.

“We’d have to hide you aboard here till we start,” said he.

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