“In Mr. Seigel’s office,” the guard said, stepping back hurriedly.
Maurer’s swarthy face was tight with rage, and there was a bleak murderous expression in his eyes.
He walked down the passage, paused for a moment outside Seigel’s office, his head bent to listen. A murmur of voices came through the door panel, and Maurer’s face tightened. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.
The office was full of tobacco smoke. Seated near the desk in a semi-circle were Seigel, McCann and Ferrari. Gollowitz sat behind the desk, a cigar in his fat white fingers.
The four men looked around sharply as Maurer came in. The only one who didn’t react to his sudden appearance was Ferrari. The other three stared at him as if they were seeing a ghost.
“Why, Jack…” Gollowitz gasped, his face going white. “For God’s sake, Jack… !”
Maurer came in and shut the door. His right hand was buried deep in his bulging coat pocket. He stood looking at the four men, his little eyes insane with rage.
“What’s he doing here?” he snarled, pointing at Ferrari.
“Jack! You — you can’t come back here!” Gollowitz said, getting unsteadily to
his feet. “Did anyone see you? Don’t you know there’s a warrant out for your arrest?”