After awhile, he arose and wandered out into the first floor corridor. As he stood there watching men and women pass through from James St. to Whitehill Ave., he suddenly stiffened.
Through the revolving doors came Paper Bag Eddie. The man was alone. His hat had been pulled low over his eyes, and his coat collar was high, but he carried the familiar paper sack.
A policeman, recognizing the man, stopped him for a moment.
“Hello, Eddie,” he said, eyeing him guardedly. “What brings you here?”
“The measles,” Eddie retorted, his thin lips curling into a sneer. “You got nothing on me, copper. It’s a free corridor, ain’t it?”
“Just keep moving, Eddie.”
“I’m here to pay a traffic fine,” the man replied. “Any law against it?”
“Go ahead,” the policeman said. “Just make it snappy and get out. We don’t want you loitering around here.”
Eddie eyed the police officer insolently, but made no reply. Passing Dan, he entered a door which bore a sign: “Pay Traffic Fines Here.”
However, he did not remain three minutes inside the room. No sooner had the policeman stepped into one of the court rooms, than Eddie emerged into the corridor again.