Sam looked pleased. “Bounce ’em, brother, bounce ’em,” he said.
“They’ll take some bouncing,” Duffy said ruefully, as he watched McGuire’s long frame disappearing through the crowded traffic.
He walked down the street, conscious of quick furtive glances at his battered face. He felt suddenly angry, his eyebrows coming down, making his face even more unattractive.
When he reached his apartment he was glad to find the place had been cleaned up. He made a little grimace at the faint stains on the walls. He wandered through the rooms, looking at everything carefully. Then he returned to the sitting-room. He sat on the edge of the table and thought a little while.
Cattley must have an apartment somewhere. The telephone directory gave him the information. He dialled the number opposite Cattley’s name, but there was no answer.
Going down once more into the street, he flagged a taxi and gave an address on the East side. After he had gone a little way, he glanced out of the small rear window. A big Packard was rolling along behind him.
He thought, “Maybe I’m just jumpy,” but he watched the Packard closely. After he had been riding for several minutes he leant forward. “A bird’s sitting on our tail,” he said abruptly. “It makes me nervous.”
The taxi-driver was a big beefy Irishman. He turned his head and grinned. “Watch me shake ’em,” he said.
Duffy gave him five minutes, then said again. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
The driver pushed the cab until it began to rattle, but the Packard just sat behind them.