“Then kill him. No — wait.” Savoli’s final order came just as Borrango was about to order the murder. “There may be some way of making him talk. Let me think.”
A light showed on the apartment telephone. Nick Savoli observed it. He lifted the receiver and spoke to the attendant.
“What!” he exclaimed. “Bring him in at once. Here — in my den.”
Nick Savoli gazed shrewdly at Mike Borrango, and a smile flickered upon the lips of the man who ruled Chicago’s gangland.
“It is Monk,” he said quietly. “He is the very man we should see.”
Borrango spoke in Italian to Genara. He told the Sicilian to be patient. He had hardly finished his words before Monk Thurman was ushered into the den.
The New York gangster gazed about him in surprise. He had never before been admitted to this inner sanctuary. He noted the thoughtful expression of Nick Savoli; he observed the telephone receiver in the hand of Mike Borrango; yet he did not seem to understand the situation.
“What’s happened?” he questioned.
“We have captured a man who works for The Shadow,” explained Borrango. “We are trying to make him confess.”
“Where is he?” Monk looked about the room.