"Dat's it. If it wasn't we wouldn't be gettin' our ten back and ten on top of it. I was steered to hang around a bookmaking joint for a few days so dat when Gibson and his deputies come there would be somebody to get pinched, see?"
"And were all those other men tipped to do the same thing?"
"Sure. Dey got a few suckers but de bunch was all in on the know."
"But how did the 'Gink' know beforehand that the raid was going to be made?"
"Say," expostulated Murphy, "ask me some-pun easy, will ya? Da 'Gink' knows everything before it happens, see? If he didn't he wouldn't be da 'Gink,' dat's all."
A thrill went through John. He was "in on the know," as Murphy had put it. What a discovery he had made! What would Brennan say when he told him? What would the mayor say? And what would Gibson say?
They were back before the place in which they had been arrested. Murphy turned, guiding John by the arm with him.
"Now keep your trap shut and let me do da talkin', see?" he admonished as they went through the swinging doors.
Inside things were exactly as they had been before the raid, except that there were twice as many in the long room. John recognized the red-faced man in the brown check suit and the greasy derby hat who had helped him on to the truck as he stood at the bar, a glass of near-beer in front of him and chatting with the bartender, who was pulling on his white coat again.