“All right,” assented Hawley, with a laugh. “If strategy fails, I’ll be glad to have the help of those big fists of yours. But I feel confident there isn’t going to be any violence.”
CHAPTER XVII.
A BIT OF STRATEGY.
There was no mistaking Dutch Louie’s place, for it was the only restaurant on the block; moreover, the name of the proprietor was emblazoned in white letters on a flaring red glass sign.
As Parsons had predicted, the place was wide open. Although it was nearly two a. m., and the State excise law forbids business of the kind after one o’clock, the two waiters were very busy serving drinks.[Pg 44]
The Camera Chap walked through the front room, and entered the room beyond. He pretended to be under the influence of liquor—walked like a fellow who has all the sail he can carry. It had occurred to him that this pretense might help his game along, although he had not as yet hit upon any definite plan for the taking of the picture.
In a corner of this rear room several men were seated at a round table, playing cards. One of these players wore a blue coat with brass buttons, and his hair was the color of carrots. By these tokens, Hawley knew that he was in the presence of Patrolman Red Horgan.
The card players were not the only occupants of the room. A dozen men were scattered among the small round tables, sipping their beverages or gulping them down, and paying but scant attention to the pinochle game in progress in the corner.
They were, as Carroll had said, a rough-looking crowd. One had only to glance at their faces to realize that anybody who came into the place looking for trouble would not have to go out unsatisfied.
Hawley, spying an unoccupied table some yards away from the group of pinochle players, made his way toward it, still keeping up the pretense of being tipsy. He seated himself so that he faced the policeman and his cronies, and, summoning a waiter, ordered something. Nobody paid much attention to him. Patrolman Horgan’s gaze happened to wander in his direction, but the glance was merely a cursory one. The policeman was too busy “melding a hundred aces” to have much interest in the harmless-looking, apparently very “tired” young man who had just come in.
In another corner of the room was an automatic piano which was operated on a nickel-in-the-slot basis. Somebody dropped a coin into this machine, and it started to thrum a lively waltz strain.