Big Slim chuckled, and his shifty look went from Scanlon to the region round about them, and then back again.
"There was a fellow shoved off the other night—out in the suburbs—maybe you saw something about it? Well, the bulls made an awful mess of that. I never seen them fall down so hard before—and believe me, that's saying something."
"That was the Burton case, wasn't it? I've been following it a little," said Bat.
Big Slim took a deep draught from the cigarette and then flung it away. Slowly he exhaled the smoke; and then sat looking at his companion, and cracking the joints of his bony fingers.
"That guy Burton was a slick one," said he, admiringly. "You gotta hand him that."
"You knew him, did you?" said Bat.
"A little. He done the swell mobs. Society people and gambling were other things he worked at. And it's been whispered more than once that he was handy with a pen."
"Nice work," said Bat. "But dangerous."
"About the best things he pulled were his get-aways," said Big Slim. "The cops never got anything on him, and he'd been fooling with the edge of the law for years. His son did not inherit any of the 'Bounder's' talent; for here he is waiting on the grand jury, charged with pushing the old man over the edge." The burglar chuckled, highly entertained. "The cops are a fine gang when you start 'em right," said he. "And when they do get a thing, you got to put it where they'll almost fall over it."
The fat Chinaman brought the food ordered, and set it before them with a comfortable air of appreciation.