He nodded to Beecher, and they moved out together.
"Let's cut out of this den of lunatics," he said. "My machine's here; supposing we run down to McKenna's and get him off for a quiet chop. I've already telephoned."
"He's got some news?"
"Yes, but I don't know what it is. Jump in."
"What about Garraboy?"
"Rumor is, he's in heavy. McKenna's looking that up, too."
"I say, Bruce, what do you really think about the situation?" said Beecher, forced to contain his curiosity. "Are we going to the bow-wows?"
"If you ask what I think," said Gunther meditatively, "I think it's the devil to pay. Far as I can see, a lot depends on John G. Slade. There's no doubt there's a crowd after his scalp."
"Will they get it?"
"Looks so; but he's got nine lives, they say."