Berg shook his head.
"Oh, come on!" said Jack thrusting his arm through the other youth's.
The tone of genuine friendliness must have reached the cold breast. Berg gave in without further objection.
They entered one of the big bakery-restaurants on Grand street, and ordered coffee and hamburgers. The smell of cooking brought a faint color into Berg's livid cheeks, and his nostrils dilated.
But the hamburgers were not destined to be eaten by them. When he had given the order Jack went into a booth to telephone Evers not to wait up for him, as he could lodge outside in his disguise and come in to change in the morning. Mrs. Evers took the message. When he came out of the booth Berg had left their table.
"Where did my friend go?" Jack asked the waiter.
"I dunno. Guy come in and spoke to him private, and he took his hat and went with him."
"What kind of looking guy?"
"Fat. Real black hair, black moustache, pale face. Dressed neat. Derby and black Melton overcoat."
This was a good description of Comrade Wilde.