“What!” came Larrigan’s exclamation. “Won’t Thurman be there?”
“He will be there,” said the voice of Borrango, “but the time will be changed. You must leave an hour later, to meet McGinnis.”
“I get you. I’ll leave here at one instead of twelve, then.”
“That’s all right. You’re starting from where you are now?”
“Yes. I’ve got my car outside.”
“Very good,” concluded the man who spoke like Borrango. “It will work out fine. But do not leave until one o’clock. It would be bad for you to get there before McGinnis.”
HOWARD BLAKE left the telephone booth. He ate his dinner leisurely, and smoked a cigar after his dessert.
The advertising man had paid his bill, when two dark-faced individuals appeared upon the balcony. They were Genara and Anelmo. The Sicilians went down the stairs toward the street. Blake rose and followed them.
The men called a taxi. Blake heard the address that they gave. It was the Gray Mill.
Howard Blake stood by the front of Marmosa’s Cafe as the taxi rolled away. A short while later, he called another taxi, and ordered the driver to take him to the Gray Mill.