"And now you're getting that way?" asked Slade.
"Not quite," laughed Rajah Brahman, "but this consulting work has put me in a funny mental state. I wouldn't be surprised if I did see a real spook, some night!
"Let's drop that, now," he changed the subject. "You've got a job to do, Slade. Are you sure you can reach this gunman out in Chicago?"
"Snooks Milligan? Easy. He hangs out at the Napoli Hotel. He's in with Gallanta's crowd. They'll do anything, particularly after I feed Milligan some soft soap.
"They've been worrying about some sort of a hook-up between the police in New York and Chicago. They'll be more anxious than we are to grab Cardona, if I give them the right kind of a tip."
"Do they know anything about our racket?" Rajah Brahman's voice was apprehensive.
"Not a thing!" declared Slade. "They think I'm out for blackmail. If they find out what Cardona's there for — and they know how to do it — they'll send me all the dope. If they bump him off, so much the better."
All three men seemed in accord on this last point. Martin Slade left, and Rajah Brahman accompanied him to the door of the apartment.
This time, Slade felt no apprehension. He had no feeling that hidden eyes were watching from the dark as he passed through the anteroom.
Leaving the Callao Hotel, he went to the Grand Central Station and put in a telephone call for Chicago. He was quickly connected with "Snooks" Milligan, at the Napoli Hotel. In well-couched words, Slade explained his purpose. He phrased the conversation so that it might bring alarm to Snooks Milligan.