Paul began to edge away so that he would not have the second gangster directly behind his back. But he was cornered and he had no way to move. He answered, “My name is Morris Paulson.”
“Do you have any friends who have been snooping around lately? They had better watch out or they will get into heaps of trouble.”
Pretending that he was ignorant of the reference, Paul said, “I don’t know what you are talking about, Mister. My friends are nice fellows who mind their own business.”
The gangster gorilla grinned mischievously. “That’s a swell idea, everybody minding his own business,” he remarked. “And you too.”
“Yes, sir,” Paul agreed meekly. Feeling that the questioning was over and that he was being dismissed, he stepped out of the way and took a step forward to walk away. For a fraction of a second he congratulated himself on his luck. The next instant, however, he felt a crash on his head. His whole body trembled, his knees began to wobble. As he fell to the ground he turned half way and noticed the cruel grin on his attacker. Then everything went dark and he knew nothing more.
Paul lay unconscious at the feet of the fat gangster. The man poked his toes into the boy’s ribs and turned him over on his back. “You shouldn’t have hit him so hard,” the fat fellow said, addressing his henchman. “He’s only a kid.”
“I didn’t hit hard, Boss. I only tapped him nice and easy.” He looked pleadingly at his chief. “What’ll we do with him?” he asked anxiously.
“Bind his hands and feet and throw him in one of the empty lots.”
“You want me to dump him, Boss?”
“No!” was the snarling answer. “Do what I say and be quick about it.”