Chapter 2

Fin wasted no time in beating around the bush. With his tough friends he
sported a tough accent. “I run into a damn queer story up the street
just now,” he said. “I only got the half of it, and I thought maybe you
could piece it out.”

“Well, shoot!” said Henny, leaning back in his swing chair.

On the way down Fin had naturally figured out what line he would take;
tell Henny the whole truth, but omit any reference to the missing brass
ball from Nick’s bed.

“In my business I got all kinds of friends . . .” Fin began.

“Just like me,” said Henny with a fat chuckle.

“Sure! . . . Well, up on Fourth Street off Washington, there’s guy I
know named Nick Peters has a little store where he repairs watches and
jewellery. It’s a real poor little place, that’s what attracted me
inside in the first place, I thought there would be a story in it. He
hasn’t even got a safe, but he says when anybody brings him a valuable
piece to fix he tells them to come back for it the same night. The rest
of the stuff he puts under his pillow.

“He’s a foreigner, but of what kind I don’t know. Never would talk about
himself. Lives all alone in a room back of his store. He’s a damn good
workman, I’ve watched him often; too good for the cheap jobs he gets.
When I asked him why he didn’t go to work for one of the big houses he
said he made more on his own. I reckon it’s a fact, because he seems to
have all he can do. Works day and night. He’s a good head, Henny; me and
him has had many a talk together; he’s what you call a philosopher.”

“Yeah?” said Henny good-humouredly. He cocked the cigar at a steeper
angle.

“Well, to-day, after I left the Three-Hours-for-Lunch Club,” Fin went
on, “I fluffed up there to have a talk with Nick, and I found the store
closed and the blinds pulled down. The kids in the street said he’d been
closed all day. I didn’t know what to make of it, because that guy was
always working. I went through the hall of the tenement house to try to
get into his room at the back. The door opened in my hand, and—Gosh!
Henno, when I looked inside, the place was completely wrecked!”

Henny shrugged cynically, and flicked the ashes off his cigar.

“It was like a madman had been let loose in there,” Fin continued. “The
table was turned over, the shelves swept bare, and all Nick’s stuff
lying on the floor and trodden on. I couldn’t see Nick first-off, but I
smelled a sweetish smell on the air. Chloroform. The store in front was
just the same. The fellow had even torn the paper from the walls and
knocked holes in the plaster. Some of the boards of the floor had been
pulled up. Certainly looked like a crazy man’s work, because the watches
and bits of jewellery Nick had been repairing was scattered on the floor
with the rest.

“I heard a groan from the back room and run in there again. I found Nick
lying on the floor between the bed and the wall. He was just coming to,
and I laid him on the bed. He looked bad, all bruised and bloody about
the head. Made me hot, I can tell you such a good little guy, never
harmed nobody. Well, I gave him water to drink and washed his head. I
found he wasn’t hurt bad, but only knocked silly.

“When he was able to talk, either he couldn’t or he wouldn’t tell me
what the fellow was after. He said he must have come in by the window
and chloroformed him while he slept. The window opened on an air shaft.
Easy enough to climb up that way. Nick said when he came to in the
morning the fellow was still there looking. He snatched a brass bell
offen the foot of the bed and crocked Nick over the head with it. That
was all he knew. The fellow must have let himself out into the hall
then. As I told you, the door was unlocked when I came. That’s the
story.”

“Yeah?” said Henny coolly. “I’m sorry for the guy if he’s a friend of
yours; but what’s remarkable about it? It happens ev’y day.”

“There’s two things funny about it,” said Fin. “The fellow that beat him
up didn’t take anything. The watches and jewellery and all was still
lying around the place. And secondly, Nick’s going to keep his mouth
shut about it. Made me promise to keep away from the police.”

“What do you make out of that?” said Henny.

“This fellow was after something special,” said Fin. “Nick let on as
much, but he wouldn’t tell me what. The fellow didn’t get it because, as
Nick said, he had it safely put away somewheres outside.”

“What do you come to me for?” asked Henny with a hard look. “Do you
think I beat up this bozo?”

Fin affected to laugh heartily. Like many a lad with an open and honest
face he made it work for him when he had need of it. “Quit your
kidding!” he said. “I came to you because you know everything that
happens this side of the river, or you can find out if you want.”

Henny was silent for a moment or two twisting the big cigar between his
lips. “You better keep out of this, kid,” he said at last. “’Sall right
for me to tell you stories of what’s past and gone. That don’t hurt
nobody. But you can’t use this story. It’s too new. The police would get
on to it.”

“How could they?” persisted Fin. “They don’t know nothing and they won’t
know. Nick Peters won’t say a word, and I’ll change it round like I
always do. You know me, Henny. I treat it as fiction. . . . Aw, there’s
a swell story in this,” he went on cajolingly, “and I need it for my
Sunday article in the _Recorder_. Don’t be a crab, Henny.”

“Did this guy give you a description of the guy what hit him?” asked
Henny.

Fin shook his head. “He couldn’t see him good.”

“Well, I’ll ask around,” said Henny cautiously. “Go down and have a
drink and come back in fifteen minutes.”

From the bar Fin could see Robespierre (as he termed him to himself)
still loitering in front of the bank across the street. That’s all
right, old fella, he thought; this joint has a door on the alley!

When Fin was admitted to Henny’s room for the second time, the big man
was not alone. Beside his desk sat a comely, well-dressed lad like Henny
of Italian extraction, and like Henny with a smooth, blank face and wary
eyes. Quick work! thought Fin. However, he dissembled his excitement.

“This is my friend Tony Casino,” said Henny. “Meet Fin Corveth, Tony.”

Fin shook hands. The Italian lad got up and sat down with a bit of a
swagger.

“Well, spill your stuff, Fin,” said Henny.

Fin felt embarrassed in having to speak of burglary and assault in such
company, however he plunged ahead. “Fellow I know, a watchmaker was
beaten up to-day,” he said. “I just wanted to get the rights of it.”