“You have done your part. You have given me the information I needed. You have had contact with both Pete Varona and Mike Larrigan.”
“Yes,” agreed Prescott, “I know how those gangs work. I’ve seen too much of them” — there was bitterness in his voice — “and when I said that the big shot, Nick Savoli, can be reached through Pete Varona, I meant it. Pete’s in with the big shot, all right.”
“You are right when you say that you talked too much,” resumed Fellows quietly. “At the same time, your future safety lies in that very fact.
“I represent a man, Prescott, who is more powerful than any of these gangsters!”
“Not in Chicago,” objected Prescott.
“Not in Chicago,” agreed Fellows. “Not here, at present. But later” — his voice was prophetic — “the situation may be different.”
HORACE PRESCOTT seemed somewhat reassured by the quiet manner of his visitor. He looked at Fellows inquiringly, hoping that the man would tell him more.
“The man I mentioned,” said Fellows, “has been planning a most astonishing campaign. Even I, his agent, do not know its details.
“I know only that it concerns the present situation here in Chicago; that gangdom is about to learn the power of this man. I came here as a confidential investigator. I learned of you through Clyde Johnston.”
“He knows a lot about me,” observed Prescott. “Johnston is a good friend of mine.