“Come along with me,” said the detective commissioner. “You can tell me your story when we get to headquarters.”
Claude Fellows smiled. He had no reason to keep anything from the police. He did not know, however, what use they would make of any information that he might give them.
Higgins appeared to have considerable knowledge of Prescott’s connections. Yet Fellows was sure that he possessed vital facts which would be news to Higgins.
A YOUNG man stepped up and waved a greeting to the assistant commissioner. It was Jerry Kirklyn, reporter for a Chicago daily.
“Hello, Barney,” said the reporter. “What’s the dope on this? Looks like some mob has social aspirations, when it comes to killings. Got a story for me?”
“Later, Jerry,” said the assistant commissioner. “See me down at headquarters, after I interview the witnesses.”
He drew the reporter to one side.
“Wait until this man Fellows testifies,” he said. “We’re going to get the real low-down on Prescott’s hook-up with the mobs. But lay off until then.”
“The detectives tell me,” said Kirklyn, “that Prescott pulled out a gun and fired back when three men fell on him at the door of the lobby. He wounded one, they say. Is that right?”
Higgins questioned one of the detectives and received the man’s affirmation.