“What can I do? Nothing — right now! It looks like some guy’s trying to muscle in. If he is, he’s got to show his hand when he tries to start his own collection business. Then I’ll be able to nail him!
“But” — Durgan looked dubious — “if all he’s trying to do is queer my game, he’s done his dirt now, and I’m going to have a tough time nailing him!”
“But why can’t the association—”
“The association can’t do a thing, Mike! It’s supposed to be protective. I’m in the garage business, paying to the association.
“The garage owners are wise to the racket, but there’s never been any way to connect me with it. If the association starts any rough stuff, right now, they’ll pin it on me.
“What about those gunmen that were in the garage. How many of them did the cops grab?”
“Pretty near all of them,” replied Wharton. “They were trying to rescue the rest when I was there.”
“My mob!” groaned Durgan. “A fine mess! If that gets out — well, there’s only one thing I can do. Act like a poor garage owner who has had a tough break handed to him! Lay low and keep clear. If I don’t—”
THE door opened, and Madge Benton entered. She started to walk across the room as though hesitating to disturb the conversation. Killer Durgan saw her and arose angrily.
“Where’ve you been?” he demanded. “What’s the idea of coming in as late as this! Where’ve you been?”