serve ’em right, I say.”
Raven had seen quite enough. It was dangerous to stay here any longer. He broke away from the crowd and walked hurriedly away. His brain was on fire with worry. Maybe Maltz would find out something. It was obviously very unsafe to return to his hotel. He passed a telephone booth, hesitated, and then went in. He rang up the D.A.’s office.
“Hackensfield?” he asked, when a man answered the phone. “This is a friend of Grantham. What’s happened? What the hell are you raiding one of our houses’ for?”
“Who are you? What’s your name?” Hackensfield demanded. He sounded tough.
“Never mind who I am. If you want to stay on our payroll you’d better get those girls off at once,” Raven snarled.
“You’re crazy. I can’t do it,” Hackensfield said, throwing caution to the wind. “Don’t you know what they’ve done?”
“What have they done?”
“They set about Grantham and Eller. My God! You ought to see those guys. The things they did to them. I tell you we’ve got to prosecute. The authorities will demand an enquiry. We can’t get out of this.”
Raven felt a little sick. “You’ve got to!” he shouted violently. “If you get those girls to testify the balloon goes up. Once they start openin’ their mouths they’ll never shut them again. The racket’ll go sky−high, an’
you’ll go with it. Listen, Hackensfield, you’ve got to stop them testifying. I don’t care how you do it, but you’ve got to stop them. Do you understand?”