He fought to release himself, but vainly. He looked up into the face of Harry Boland.
“What’s your hurry?” inquired young Boland coolly. “Don’t be in a rush. I want to ask you a few questions.”
He produced a letter from his pocket. Druce recognized it at a glance as the anonymous note he had written to lure young Boland to the cafe.
“Did you write that?” demanded Boland.
Druce struggled in a frenzy.
“To hell with you and your questions,” he yelled. “Let me by or I’ll kill you.”
He grappled with Boland and the two men wrestled out to the edge of the big drinking room.
“You wrote it,” Boland hissed in his ear.
“It’s a lie. I’m going to give you the beating of your life.”
The elder Boland, who had followed Druce, fell upon his son. Harry turned and recognized his father.