“Cliff Marsland,” was the reply.
Dip’s eyes opened. Cliff Marsland! Dip had heard of him in the bad lands. Cliff Marsland was known there as a killer — a man who had done a stretch in the Big House called Sing Sing.
After his release from prison, Marsland had mixed in the New York rackets; then he had disappeared. The rumor was that the town had gotten too hot for him. Dip wanted to make sure.
“I’ve heard of you,” he said. “Why did you scram?”
Marsland laughed.
“It wasn’t the mobs that worried me,” he declared. “I mixed it with a few of them, but the bad boys were all wiped out about that time. It was the cops that made me scram. They were watching for any guy that had been up in the Big House.
“A couple of my old pals went the route, and I thought maybe the cops would hook me up with it. So I beat it for Chi.
“Now I’m back. It was all a false alarm. I could walk into headquarters to-morrow, and there wouldn’t be a squawk.”
The words rang true. Furthermore, they explained a point about Cliff Marsland that Dip Riker had heard discussed. Gangsters had wondered where Cliff Marsland had gone. He had dropped out of the underworld with surprising suddenness.
So he had been in Chicago! That settled the matter.