“If I can get near enough,” said Frank grimly, “I shall do my best to give Jim Hooker the worst thrashing he ever received.”
“And afterward—will you turn him over to the police?”
“Most assuredly.”
“That being the case, I have a fancy that Mr. Hooker’s career in New Haven is pretty near an end. We must not let him see us when he comes out.”
“Wait. I want to watch him. I am trying to make out what the old Jew is saying to him.”
“It looks to me as if he’s telling Hooker where to go in order to make a strike,” said Hodge.
And, strangely enough, that thought had occurred to Frank. Still, Merry was not willing to give up hope that Hooker might turn out right, after all. To be sure, the fellow’s actions were against him, but, as yet, he had done nothing actually bad. For all that he regretted the evident probability that Hooker was not “on the level,” still Merry was glad now that he had consented to come with Hodge and watch the fellow.
“He’s coming out!” exclaimed Bart.
They hurriedly drew back into a dark doorway. The old Jew followed Hooker to the door, where they paused a moment, and the shopkeeper was distinctly heard to say:
“You vant to be careful, my young frient; you may ged indo drouple, you know.”