Alex went over to him and pulled his hands away from his face. Blood ran down from his nose and his top lip was split, showing a long yellow tooth. Alex hit him again. He hit him very hard, so that he grunted as he drove the punch home.
Miller’s knees went and he slid down the wall and sat on the floor.
Fenner repeated coldly, “Where’s Thayler?”
Miller sobbed, and mumbled something. Fenner said, “Okay, leave him to me.” He reached inside his coat and pulled out his gun. He walked over to Miller and bent over him. “Get up,” he said harshly. “I’m not making a mess inside here. Come on up on deck.”
Miller looked into the gun barrel, his eyes bulging, then he said in a low, even voice, exhausted with terror, “He’s over at the Leadler dame’s joint.”
Fenner remained squatting. He was very still. “How did he know about it?” he said at last.
Miller leaned his head against the wall. Blood continued to drip from nose and his eyes never left the gun. “Bugsey phoned him,” he whispered.
“Bugsey?
“Yeah.”
Fenner drew a deep breath. “How do you know this?”