“Well?” demanded Durgan.
“I guess you’ve heard all about it,” said Wharton.
“You mean the garages?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I know the Eighth Avenue place has gone up.”
“So have the others. Terrible damage, Mr. Durgan. It wasn’t so bad with the other two. A lot of cars smashed, and it’s going to cost plenty.
“But the Eighth Avenue garage is all shot to pieces. That’s where the cops nabbed the fellows coming out. Patrols — ambulances — fire trucks — they’re all up there!”
“A fine guy you are!” growled Durgan savagely.
“How was I to know?” protested Wharton. “We were the last ones to expect this. It’s going to cost a lot of money—”
“What! Those joints? They don’t mean that” — Durgan snapped his fingers. “I could see a dozen garages go up in smoke, and I wouldn’t mind it if I owned all of them! This has put the skids under me in a big way — that’s all!