But, just as the big truckman was beginning really to enjoy himself, the police arrived in force, and Nick whispered to Chick to “Get Patsy and come along. I don’t want to have to explain to the police now. Where’s that man Gordon?”
“I’m afraid he’s gone,” replied Chick. “I didn’t see him get away, but that’s what he’s done.”
“Too bad!” exclaimed the chief, allowing his chagrin to have voice for once. “We had him right here, and now he’s gone.”
“Well, anyhow, it was a lovely scrap!” chuckled Patsy, tenderly feeling a bump over his left eye. “Did you see who that truckman was? It was Bonesy Billings, who used to be a butcher in Fourth Avenue, and who always brought your meat. I guess he recognized you, and that’s what brought him into the fight.”
“It was not only that,” added Chick. “I heard him say that Gordon roomed at his house, and that he’d lick anybody who touched a roomer of his.”
“Do you know where Bonesy Billings lives?” asked Nick.
“No. But I’ll bet I can find out,” replied Patsy. “Bonesy has driven away now, or I’d ask him.”
“Well, if he lives in this neighborhood—as I suppose he does—we ought to get track of him. Look him up to-morrow, Patsy, and we’ll call on him in the evening. He may hold the key to the mystery we are trying to probe.”
“You mean the finding of Howard Milmarsh?” asked Chick.