It seemed to Jimmie Dale as though the clutch of an icy hand was suddenly at his heart, as though the ground beneath his feet had grown suddenly unstable and that the Wowzer’s face, close to his own, was swirling around and around in swift and endless gyrations—but he was conscious, too, that he was master of himself. The muscles of his face twitched—but it was to express incredulity. His tongue carried the cigarette butt languidly back to the other corner of his mouth.
“Aw, go on!” said Jimmie Dale. “Try it on somebody else! Silver Mag croaked out the night they had that fire down there in the old tenement.”
“Yes, she did—nix!” scoffed the Wowzer, with a short laugh. “De same way dat blasted snitch of a Gray Seal did—eh? Say, Smarly, I’m handin’ it to youse straight. Dey caught her snoopin’ around one of de en-trays into Foo Sen’s half an hour ago. Say, de whole mob all de way up de line’s been tipped off. I’m givin’ youse de real thing. Youse must have been asleep somewhere, or youse’d have been wise before.”
“Sure—I believe you!” said Jimmie Dale earnestly. “Who caught her, Wowzer?”
“De Mole,” replied the Wowzer. “An’ he’s got her now over in his layout.”
It was a moment before Jimmie Dale spoke. There seemed to be a horrible, ghastly dryness in his mouth; there seemed to well up from his soul and overwhelm him a world of mocking and sardonic irony. The Mole! The Mole was the leader of the gang with which the Pippin was allied; it was at the Mole’s place that the Pippin usually lived; it was at the Mole’s place that the police would first institute their search for the Pippin—and five minutes ago, through Carruthers, he had unleashed the police! The Wowzer’s face seemed to be swirling around and around in front of him again. To get away—and think! He could have groaned, cried out aloud!
“Say, thanks, Wowzer, for piping me off!” said Jimmie Dale effusively.
“Oh, dat’s all right,” responded the Wowzer graciously. “Only keep it under yer hat except wid de crowd. De bulls ain’t on, an’ de Mole saw her first—see? Dere ain’t goin’ to be no buttin’ in till she gets hers! An’ de word’s out not to do any pushin’ an’ crowdin’ around de Mole’s fer front seats, ‘cause den de bulls ‘d get wise—savvy? Just leave it to de Mole—get me?”
“Sure—I get you,” said Jimmie Dale. “Well, so long, Wowzer—and thanks again.”
“S’long, Smarly,” replied the Wowzer.