“When I was thirteen we went to live in the worst corner of New York. Department orders for him. Mother wouldn’t go. Grandmother is rich. She’s in society. Mother’s in society. Society folks don’t go to live on a street where they’re all Sicilians. I went. I made him let me come.
“Learned the language, I did. Played around with the kids. Found out things. Say! I found out things he’d never have learned any other way!”
“Maybe so.” Drew’s tone was still quiet. “But this is not New York.”
She looked at him for a moment in silence. When she spoke it was with some effort. “Big cities are all alike. I know!”
Dropping into a chair she remained silent for a time. Then she said in a changed voice:
“Tell me about this case.”
Because he was beginning to like this girl, Drew told her. “And we’ll get them,” he concluded. “Justice is an arrow of fire. It burns its way in time to every evil heart.”
Joyce took in every word. Then she asked a question:
“Where is Mrs. Ramacciotti?”
“In the cottage just ahead of this shack.”