“Good work. No wonder they hate you, those crooks. This place should be guarded.”
“It is.” Johnny laid his hand on his bow.
“Drew told me about that thing and the way you handled it down there by the slip. Wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t told me.
“By the way, I’ve been making a little study of that man’s history, the one who shot Rosy’s father, the one that beat you up.”
“Find anything?”
“Following the hunch about his liking the sound of his gun, and the descriptions given in other robberies, I believe he’s responsible for several bad bits of business.
“This much we know from the case of Rosy’s father. He’s a Sicilian. A tall fellow, and heavily built. Not dark for his race. Got a low, narrow forehead, and blue eyes very close together. He’s never been caught. Probably sneaked into our country from Canada or Mexico. Send him back where he came from if we get him. And we’ll get him!”
“I hope so,” said Johnny, with a furtive glance toward the door. “I mostly manage to keep wide awake. But it’s late by the time I’m through. If I should get drowsy, and he walked in again, well—”
“This place should be guarded,” the sergeant repeated. “I’ll suggest it.”
“No, don’t bother.”