This was his nightly habit and had been since he became radio officer. He was still young enough to thrill to this secret practice; and yet old enough to realize that some day the acquired deftness and speed might stand him in good stead.
Every afternoon he practiced assiduously at the short-range targets down in the basement of the building. Officer Cates of the wave-length squad was not only very quick on the draw, but very adept at knocking the neck off a bottle fifty paces distant.
Twenty minutes later he put on an old topcoat, drew a cap well down over his eyes, and went out into the street to catch a southbound car.
Everybody seemed to think that Big Ed Margolo would go after McGuirk at once.
Dave Cates thought differently. “Margolo’s no dumb-bell,” he mused, glancing at a youth of about his own size and general appearance who sat across the car. “He’ll figure they’re watching him close and lay off for a time. In that case I’ll watch him closer than ever.”
Cates observed that the other occupant of the car was regarding him with more than passing interest. “Humph. Wonder who that guy is? He’s givin’ me the once-over like he wanted to know my family history.”
CHAPTER III: STRATEGY
At Syndicate Park, the end of the line, Cates swung off the car. The park glittered with hundreds of colored lights, people sauntered about laughing and talking, and through the trees sounded a male voice singing nasally to the tempo of a dance band:
“I wanna be loved by you, by you and nobody else but you,
I wanna be kissed by you alone.”
It was coming from the Salon Quintesse. Perhaps tonight Big Ed would be here celebrating his release from “stir.” Cates walked to a spot near some chauffeurs who were watching the gay crowd inside the hall. He had no especial plan of action, save to trail Big Ed constantly.