“I’ve got him down pat, all right,” flashed through Patsy’s mind while he complied. “He don’t so much as even scent a rat in the meal. If I can only get next to Floyd and the rest of the gang—well, I can see their finish.”
Bannon conducted him out of a back door and around two old buildings in the rear, which brought them into one of the crosstown streets. He then headed for another section of the East Side—that to which Chick Carter shadowed Vera Vantoon only a short time later.
All the while Patsy kept up a quiet stream of talk, describing the supposed burglary for which he was wanted, and in a way to further impress Bannon, but never an inquisitive word to awaken a feeling of distrust.
Nevertheless, the unexpected happened, in so far as Patsy was concerned.
Ten minutes brought them to the street in which Chick lost sight of his quarry.
“Keep your trap closed, now,” cautioned Bannon, as they were nearing the alley previously mentioned. “I’ve got to give a signal in half a minute.”
“I’m dumb,” nodded Patsy, detecting no sign of treachery in the other’s eyes.
Bannon halted upon arriving at the entrance to the alley. He glanced up and down the street, noting that it was deserted, and then he said softly:
“Wait here and watch out in that direction. We’ll sneak through the alley in half a minute and——”
Patsy heard no more.