The only fault found with Le Blanc’s party was that it was a stag affair. One of the visiting gunmen insisted that it would have been improved by the presence of some girls.
“Come around after the place is opened,” said Le Blanc. “I’ll have plenty of molls here. Bring some along with you, if you want, but you’ll meet a lot of classy ones here at the Gray Mill.”
About ten o’clock, the gangsters began to leave. Most of them had some special reason for being back in Chicago before midnight. Hence the party dwindled away until only one man remained with Joe le Blanc.
This one man was dark-faced, and wore a black mustache. He had a smooth appearance, and one might have mistaken him for a professional gambler rather than a gunman.
No one apparently suspected that this man had been waiting for the others to leave; nevertheless that was his purpose in staying. For as soon as the crowd was gone, the one remaining man drew a chair to the side of the table, and looked questioningly at Joe le Blanc.
CHAPTER VII
PLANS ARE MADE
“WELL, Steve,” remarked Joe le Blanc, “how do you like the joint?”
“You asked us all that question,” responded the stocky man with the black mustache. “That isn’t why you tipped me off to stay after the others went. What’s on your mind, Joe? Spill it!”
Joe le Blanc stared shrewdly at the man who had spoken so plainly. He had intended to lead up slowly to the idea that he had in mind; but now he decided that direct procedure was the best policy.