Homer was too cowed by Farley’s boldness to resent the insult with which the cunning-faced gangster had ended his statement.
The cringing man was unable to say a single word. Ignoring Homer’s pitiful expression, Farley calmly unfolded the details of his scheme.
“Here’s the way we’ll work it,” said the gangster. “They know you down at the Black Ship. They know you met Max Parker there. But there’s not a guy in that place who would spill a word to the coppers.
“That’s one joint where a stool gets his the moment he pokes his ratty nose through the door.
“So I stopped down at the Black Ship tonight. Early. And when I left there, the word got buzzed around that you were going to stop in the place tomorrow night.”
“Me,” exclaimed Homer. “You want me to go back down there? Where I met Max?”
“Sure thing,” declared Farley. “When you’re there, you’re going to talk a bit, too. You’re going to tell them that you’re coming back here.”
“But if there’s stools there—”
“There won’t be any.”
“Then why—”