“You’re next,” he said. “Better beat it, bo. I’ll tame yuh like I’ve tamed her.”
“Tamed is good.” Fay picked up his hat. He hooked the cane over his left sleeve. “Rather pleasant evening, Dropper.... I see you understand women.”
“I guess I do. Yuh want to let ’em know you’re the biggest guy alive. I’m that guy. Nobody ever took a broad away from me.”
“But she’s only a kid, Dropper.”
“Another year—”
“Yes, you’re right. Well, so long. There’ll be another night, too. I’m coming back.”
“I’ll be ready for yuh!”
Fay had no set plan as he left the scatter of Mike Cregan—alias the Dropper. He wanted to thrash out the matter of Emily O’Mara in his mind. Her behavior, and the fear she held of her unsavory guardian, puzzled the cracksman.
He had accomplished much in a brief time. There were not many men living who could have broken out of Rockglen on one afternoon and strolled down Michigan Avenue the next. It was an exploit in keeping with his reputation.