“And ain’t that just about what Nevada wants?”
“Just about. Only he aims to have this Gallagher guy take care of the rub-out!”
“I still don’t-a like the looks of Gallagher,” Dago said. “Nevada’s a fool-a to be taken in by the guy. How do we know he ain’t a Fed in disguise?”
A burst of raucous laughter resounded down the tunnel at that, and Butch roared, “You been readin’ these G-man mags, Dago, old rat!”
“I been readin’ about-a that Hogan case, you mean. They say they was a G-man what was a spy fer one of the gangs!”
“Worked right in with them, Dago?”
“Right-hand man!”
There was silence as they hurried away; then some one grunted, “Something to think about, anyhow; eh?”
But John Tallman had heard enough to make his hopes rise as well as fall. He knew that Gallagher was probably Mr. Sandborn and that he was in grave danger because these men would stop at little to discover his real identity, and he felt elated, because what had been said must mean that Stanley Sandborn was not far distant!
Excited, he shoved off towards the lights again, hurrying along now that he could see, ready to dart into a side aisle at the first need.