“Well, what’s behind it? You know as well as I, all that’s bull. What’s he want you to do?”
Henry struck the air with his clenched fists. “He wants Hamsley on a plate. He wants Grantham’s joint closed down. He’s yelling murder, an’ he’s got blood in his eye.”
Just then the phone rang. Henry looked at it doubtfully. “That’s him again, I bet,” he said, lifting the receiver off gingerly.
From where Jay sat he could hear a sudden bellow come over the line. Henry winced and nodded to Jay.
“Yes, Mr. Poison. Sure, Mr. Poison. I quite understand, Mr. Poison.”
Jay grinned. It did him good to see his chief sweat. “Why, yes, Mr. Poison. He’s here now. I’ll tell him to come to the phone.” Henry looked at Jay with a grim little smile.
Jay waved his hands frantically, but Henry handed him the phone. “Mr. Poison wants you,” he said, and stood, mopping his face.
This was the first time that Jay had ever spoken to the proprietor of the St. Louis Banner. “Ellinger here,” he said.
Something exploded in his ear and he hurriedly removed the receiver. Holding it almost at arm’s length, he could plainly hear Poison’s roar. “Ellinger? You the guy I pay each week to be my crime reporter?”
“Yes, that’s right.”