Hegarty and his men seemed nervous but carefree. They kept hard eyes on the door to the street but cracked jokes with apparent ease and talked in low tones between times while they sipped beer.
“Oh, you’re the boys as bought the beer bottle, aren’t you?” queried the proprietor as he came with the order.
Gulping hard in spite of himself, Stan “shushed” him away as soon as possible. None of the men at the other table appeared to have heard the remark for they were all engrossed in examining a photograph which Hegarty was now passing around to the men.
“That the bird?” queried one.
“Yeh! Take a good look at him. I had plenty trouble digging that up. But I found a way!”
“So he’s a Fed, eh? Say, I always wanted to get a good look at one of those guys!”
“You’ll get a chance to make a sieve of him when we get to Porpoise Island, boys,” said Hegarty. “And I figures we’ll go over there Wednesday night ’stead of Thursday!”
“It’ll be a surprise, eh, Hegarty?”
“It’s gotta be or we’ll have the whole F. B. I. in on us!” said the head gangster, chuckling.
And Stanley Sandborn held his breath for he had not only heard distinctly all that was said, so acute was his hearing made by the mention of “Feds,” but he had a good look at the photograph one of the men was handing back to Hegarty! It was a good clear photograph of Gallagher!