“Who sent Clipper Tobin on the job? Does that man know Marsland? Well — Marsland can trace back Tobin’s actions. Perhaps he may discover their source—”
SOMEWHERE in New York a man sat in a small, darkened room, a pair of earphones clamped to his head, a mouthpiece before him. He was at one end of a conversation. At the other end, in the back room of a secluded dive, sat Sneaks Rubin. The pale-faced gangster with the fanglike teeth was talking with his master — Double Z!
To Sneaks, Double Z was no more than a voice — but he dreaded that voice to the depths of his evil heart. In this conversation, Sneaks was pouring out all he knew — and his words told of a looming danger. For Sneaks Rubin had not been inactive during the exciting moments that had followed his departure from Arnold Bodine’s apartment.
“Clipper was double-crossed,” he was saying. “The guy that went with him on the job was a phony.”
“What was his name?”
The question came in a deliberate, monotonous voice. It was that same singleness of tone that had constantly perplexed Sneaks Rubin.
“I don’t know who he was,” admitted the gangster. “Clipper figured he was O.K.—”
“You did not follow my instructions,” said the accusing voice. “I told you to obtain a reliable man.”
“Clipper said he was reliable—”
“That is not sufficient,” came the interruption to the protest. “You should have been positive, from your own observation.”