Downstairs, near the edge of the sidewalk, a shabbily dressed man was selling some mechanical toys that ran by clockwork.
Nick kicked over one of the toys as it ran in front of him.
“Ain’t you got no eyes?” blustered the curbstone merchant. “That’ll stand ye in fifty cents.”
Nick picked up the broken toy and saw a folded paper inside of it.
He deftly abstracted the paper and tossed the tin automobile at Chick’s feet.
“Here’s your money,” he said, tendering a bill. “There’s no sense in running those things all over the walk.”
Chick dived into his pocket for change.
“There’s a man in a brown derby and gray clothes around the corner keeping track of this doorway,” said Chick, in a low tone.
“No, short and thickset.”