“Yeah?” Sneaks showed his ugly teeth in a sour grin. “Lookit: You think I’m on the inside. Well, I’ll put you wise. Double Z ain’t told nothin’ to Sneaks Rubin that Jake Dermott doesn’t know. Whatta you think of that?”
Jake stared at the pasty-faced speaker. He knew that the man was telling the truth.
SNEAKS RUBIN was an odd figure in the underworld. He was one of those strange characters that knew every one and sided with no one. It was not until several months before that he had appeared in a definite guise; then, his new condition was revealed to very few, Jake Dermott among them. Sneaks was a man who played it safe.
“You know the lay,” said Jake in an objecting tone. “I don’t. So you know more than I know.”
“I don’t know more than you, Jake,” retorted Sneaks. “I figure more, that’s all.”
“Tell me what you figure about Double Z, then.”
“All right,” agreed Sneaks. “First of all, he’s a smart guy. He’s got ‘em all talkin’ ain’t he? He knows plenty that’s goin’ on. When some of these guys that call themselves big shots get ready to pull a job, they find out the dicks have been tipped off — by Double Z.
“That makes ‘em wonder about him. Then he comes along himself and knocks off a couple of gazebos. That makes ‘em wonder more, don’t it?”
“He knocked off three,” said Jake.
“That’s right,” agreed Sneaks. “You and I are the only guys that know it. What’s more, you’re the only one that ever worked with Double Z when you helped him lug that corpse outa the old house. You’ve seen him. What does he look like?”