“You know dat place beside de river? Down below de flower shop? Angelo Piccalo’s shop? Dat’s de place.”
Drew looked at Johnny. Johnny looked at Drew.
“Rat,” said Drew, “you’re a great old finder. Here’s a fiver. Now scram!”
The Rat vanished.
For a long time the detective and his young friend sat staring at the shoe.
“Johnny,” said Drew at last, “they say you can’t keep birds from flying over your head, but you can prevent their building nests in your hair. Also, ‘Where there is much smoke there must be some fire.’ First there’s the jimmy bar, and now there’s this shoe. Looks as if we were beginning to see light. Do you get me?”
“I—I think I do,” replied Johnny, in anything but a cheerful voice.
Johnny was on his way early next morning. He crossed the bridge and was about to pass the flower shop without going in, when Angelo stepped out of the door.
“Gooda morning, meester Johnny! Dees ees one—a fine morning.”
“Yes, sure, Angelo, it is fine.”