Nick had an idea that the two sailors, who were evidently unused to the ways of New York crooks, would loiter about Hartley’s place.
Patsy was watching in the street for the reason that the men might visit the vicinity of the diamond shop without actually going in. If they came within sight, he was to motion to Nick if it were possible to make him see, through the crowd; and if not, he was to go to the store after him.
But it was not necessary for Patsy to signal to Nick or to call him from the store. As the chief approached the door, after being in the establishment for some time, he saw two men resembling the ones he sought standing in front of the store. They were talking together earnestly, making quick gestures with their hands.
Nick passed out into the street and halted near them. One of the men looked the detective over and approached him, pushing pedestrians aside like a man in the fighting stage of intoxication.
“’Ello, shipmate,” he said, laying a hand heavily on Nick’s shoulder. “Doin’ biz with that bloomin’ shark?”
“’E won’t buy,” replied Nick. “’E wants the bloomin’ earth, ’e does.”
“’E’s a shark, a’ Hindian Hocean shark,” roared the sailor. “’E’s got to take a broadside from me the day.”
“You ain’t out on no bloomin’ desert island now,” said Nick. “You’ll get in irons, that’s what you’ll get, if you lay alongside of that pirate here. Offered me fifty dollars for a five-hundred-dollar diamond, that’s wot ’e did, blast ’im.”
Patsy came up at this moment, and the four wandered away to a drinking place on the Bowery, and sat down at a table. Nick was by no means certain that the men he was with were the ones he sought.
They drank rum liberally at Nick’s expense, but did not appear to get much the worse for their libations. They cursed Hartley from keel to topmast, as one of them expressed it, but refused to mention the cause of their hatred.