“That’s a nice question to ask!” Max snarled. “You tie me up like a pig in the cabin and then wonder why I get out of your clutches!”
“You had a little swim for it, didn’t you?” asked Case.
“Yes,” was the reply, “and I’ll make you sweat for every drop of water I swallowed during that long dive. I’ll show you a thing or two!”
“What was there in that job for you, anyway?” asked Alex. “We’ve got a new manila cable charged up to you.”
“Mark the bill down on ice,” snorted Max, “and lay the ice on the stove. You did me dirt there and I’m going to get even!”
“Go as far as you like,” said Case. “We are here to answer all questions.”
Max, who had been standing in the entrance to the alcove, with the curtain half over his shoulder, now turned and beckoned to the rough-looking boys gathered about the table he had just left.
“Friends of yours?” asked Alex as the others gathered about the alcove. “They look as if they might be.”
The boys outside now began jostling each other roughly, as if preparing to start a fake fight among themselves. That, as Alex and Case well knew, is an old, old trick in the underworld. Whenever an enemy is to be attacked, it is common practice for the assailants to start a fight among themselves, being certain that their enemies are dealt most of the blows. Many an apparently innocent bystander has been murdered in that way.
The proprietor of the place came rushing out of an inner room as the toughs hustled each other back and forth and timidly remonstrated with them. It was evident that he stood in fear of the gang. The boys saw that no help might be expected from him.