“But I’ve been holding out on you. I’ve got twenty more and they’re tough! Dock wallopers, some of them. Brooks is going to get it, and so are his pals! Quick, too!
“I know this racket; and it’ll be dead if I let it ride ten days. Then none of them will pay!
“But they’re all going to pay! I’m giving them the works — turning my whole mob loose. One man at the head of all of them. How do you like that?”
A thin, wolfish smile crept over the face of Ernie Shires. His animosity was forgotten. He scented big jobs ahead, with more pay if he should prove successful.
“You’re giving me all of ‘em, eh?” he asked. “That’s the stuff, Tim! That’s the stuff! We’ll knock ‘em off! And I’m out to get that guy that queered things tonight, too!”
“You think you know who he is?”
Ernie’s triumphant expression faded suddenly. He glanced again toward the window. He approached Tim Waldron and sat in a chair close to the racketeer.
“Listen, Tim” — Ernie’s voice was low — “this guy was dressed all in black. All in black — get me?”
“Mourning for somebody, I guess,” came the sarcastic reply.
“All in black,” repeated Shires. “And when he left — he laughed!”