“They meet in the old back room in Jackson’s,” said Hooker. “They do not choose to be seen together, you know, for that would create comment. Freshmen and sophomores do not become chums, especially if they belong to rival class crews.”
“Jackson keeps a bad place,” said Frank. “He should not be permitted in the city. I believe more crooked work has been planned in his joint than in any other place in New Haven, and I’m sorry to say that Yale men have been in many of the plots.”
“Jackson knows you?”
Frank flushed a little, but promptly said:
“Yes, he knows me. I used to wander in there sometimes. I have found it necessary to go there in search of friends, and I’ve had one or two little encounters there. I once threatened Jackson with police investigation if he did not refuse to let certain men play cards for money in that famous little back room of his. I had him on his knees before I was done with him, and he’s been very respectful since. He always lifts his hat to me on the street, even though I may not choose to speak.”
“Then you have a grip on him?”
“Not now, I fancy.”
“Still, you might go there and have your way to a certain extent.”
“Perhaps so.”
“Then I’ll find out the time, and you may see what you can do.”