“Say, you want to be careful in here!” he would declare, in an awed tone, on entering one of these tawdry palaces. “Guess this is one of the toughest spots in New York City. You stick close to me and I’ll make things all right.”
His method of making things all right was the same in every case. He would form a circle of disreputable-looking youths, for whose drinks Sogrange was called upon to pay. The attitude of these young men was more dejected than positively vicious. They showed not the slightest signs of any desire to make themselves unpleasant. Only once, when Sogrange incautiously displayed a gold watch, did the eyes of one or two of their number glisten. The ex-detective changed his place and whispered hoarsely in his patron’s ear.
“Say, don’t you flash anything of that sort about here! That young cove right opposite to you is one of the best known sneak-thieves in the city. You’re asking for trouble that way.”
“If he or any other of them want my watch,” Sogrange answered calmly, “let them come and fetch it. However,” he added, buttoning up his coat, “no doubt you are right. Is there anywhere else to take us?”
The man hesitated.
“There ain’t much that you haven’t seen,” he remarked.
Sogrange laughed softly as he rose to his feet.
“A sell, my dear friend,” he said to Peter. “This terrible city keeps its real criminal class somewhere else rather than in the show places.”
A man who had been standing in the doorway, looking in for several moments, strolled up to them. Peter recognized him at once and touched Sogrange on the arm. The newcomer accosted them pleasantly.
“Say, you’ll excuse my butting in,” he began, “but I can see you’re kind of disappointed. These suckers”—indicating the ex-detective—“talk a lot about what they’re going to show you, and when they get you round it all amounts to nothing. This is the sort of thing they bring you to, as representing the wickedness of New York! That’s so, Rastall, isn’t it?”