“You think he’ll look you up?”
“Maybe. We were real pals, Zach and I.”
Silent minutes passed. A small clock on the bureau denoted the quarter hour. The telephone bell began to ring. Lefty clenched his fists, and stared anxiously at Possum.
“Answer it,” ordered the man by the window. “Don’t stand there like a dummy, Lefty.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“Punch Baxton, maybe. Find out.”
Lefty picked up the telephone and spoke into the receiver. He covered the mouthpiece, and looked toward Possum.
“It ain’t Punch,” said Lefty. “Some guy wants to talk to you.” Possum tossed the newspaper aside. He took the telephone and delivered a leisurely remark.
“This is Mr. Quill,” he said. “Who is calling?”
Lefty Hotz could hear the click of the receiver. He saw a flicker of surprise upon Possum Quill’s shrewd visage.
“Come up,” ordered Possum. “I’ll be waiting for you. Make it speedy.” Hanging up the receiver, Possum walked to the door and opened the portal so that the light of the room showed out into the corridor. He stood there with an expectant gaze.
Two minutes passed — the form of a tall, stoop-shouldered man appeared at the end of the hall. Spying Possum waiting, the visitor hastened forward. Without a word, he received Possum’s handclasp. He looked suspiciously toward Lefty, who was standing close behind Possum.
“Come in,” said Possum quietly. “This fellow” — he indicated Lefty — “works for me. Glad you showed up. I’m going out soon.”
THE stranger was dressed in a suit which was new, but ill-fitting. His topcoat, too, had the same appearance. There was a suspicious challenge in his eyes. Lefty noted it; so did Possum.
That fact explained Possum Quill’s next action. The crook invariably discussed all of his affairs in the presence of Lefty Hotz. This time, however, he departed from his usual rule. He glanced at the clock, noted that it was barely past the quarter-hour, then nudged his visitor toward the small adjoining room.
“Let’s go in there and talk,” suggested Possum. “You wait out here, Lefty. Knock on the door when the clock hits half past. Not before — understand?”
Lefty nodded. He watched Possum and the visitor go into the inner room. He saw the door close.
He shrugged his shoulders. Possum was boss so far as Lefty was concerned. Never before had Possum taken a stranger aside for a discussion which Lefty was not to hear, but the gangster accepted the visitor’s wary look as sufficient reason for the unexpected procedure.
There was curiosity, however, in Lefty’s demeanor. The big gangster shared that feeling with another man whom circumstances had also cut off from Possum Quill’s conference. Harry Vincent, across the hall, had heard the words that had followed the ring of the telephone. Peering through the transom, after extinguishing the lights in his own room, Harry had glimpsed the visitor who had come up from the lobby.
There was no dictograph connection to the inner room, hence Harry, like Lefty, was waiting for some later word that might explain the purpose of this unexpected visit. Possum Quill had been wiser than he knew when he had taken the stranger away in order to speak with him.
Within the confines of the little room, Possum was cannily surveying his visitor. He saw a man whose face he knew, yet whose countenance wore a visible pallor, and whose eyes were furtive and worried. The stranger, on the contrary, saw Possum’s shrewd visage exactly as he had expected to view it.
He sat down on the bed with a sigh of relief. He reached out wearily as Possum extended him a pack of cigarettes. After one match failed, the man obtained his light and took two reassuring puffs.
“Good to see you, Possum,” said the stranger. “Good to see you, pal.” Possum Quill smiled.
“Say” — his tone was an easy laugh — “you’ve got nothing on me. I didn’t expect to see you for ten years.” The visitor’s face twitched as it formed a wan smile. A short laugh escaped the man’s lips.
The words that Possum Quill had uttered were highly significant. Until a few days ago, there had been sufficient reason for Possum to believe that he would not have seen this old acquaintance until after a full decade had passed.
The pale-faced man upon the bed was the very one whose actions had been discussed by Possum Quill and Lefty Hotz only a few minutes before the visitor’s entry.
Possum Quill and Lefty Hotz had made a pair of knaves. There was a third rogue in their company, now — Zach Telvin, the jail breaker from the Middle West.
A hunted man, an escaped convict, who had just begun a ten-year term, Zach Telvin had come to New York to find his old pal, Possum Quill.
CHAPTER III. THE DEPARTURE
“YOU’LL help me out, Possum?”
There was anxiety in Zach Telvin’s tone as the escaped convict eyed his old associate. Possum Quill, his face emotionless, nodded in return.
A broad grin appeared upon Zach’s face. The expression was a contrast to his hunted look. It seemed as though the man had gained a new ambition. Puzzlement showed in Possum’s steady gaze.
“That’s all I wanted to know,” asserted Zach. “I needed a pal like you, Possum — and I thought you’d make the grade. Lots of guys would turn a fellow like me down — but you’re no heel. You’re regular. Say — I’m going to tell you plenty.”
“Spill it fast,” said Possum calmly. “Lefty and I are starting out on a job in ten minutes.”
“A big job?”
“Chauffeuring for a guy that’s making a getaway. There’s one grand in the job.”
“One grand? Listen, Possum — sit down — I’ve got to talk.”
New eagerness showed in Zach Telvin’s face. His words became rapid as he poured a low-toned story into Possum Quill’s attentive ear. Zach hit the high spots as he spoke.
“You know why they sent me to the pen, don’t you?” queried the convict. “I was in Birch Bizzup’s outfit. We pulled the swiftest bunch of bank jobs that they’d ever heard of, out that way. Then they got us — and what a fight it was.
“Birch got bumped by the bulls. So did a couple of other birds. They landed the rest of us, and sent us away. Came mighty close to hanging first-degree murder on us, on account of a couple of shootings that Birch had done.
“I’m in the pen about a month. Then came the chance to break loose. It was a long shot, Possum, and I wouldn’t have gone through with it, but I had a big reason why I wanted to be out. I made my getaway, and here I am.”
Possum Quill sensed that something of high importance was coming. He was not disappointed.
“I was mighty close to Birch Bizzup,” resumed Zach Telvin. “I was right beside him when he took the bump — and he didn’t spill a word before he croaked. That’s why I kept mum. They never found out what I knew.
“Half a million bucks, Possum — maybe more than that — gold, a little of it — currency, plenty — and Liberty bonds that are good for cash. That’s the main part of the swag that Birch Bizzup stowed away!”
“Stowed away?” questioned Possum.
“That’s what I said,” grinned Zach. “Birch knew how to boss his mob. They knew he was on the square. He packed all the gravy, and had us waiting for the big divvy when the blow-up queered the game.
“Birch was a smart guy. How he figured where the pickings lay is more than I can dope out, but he always cracked a bank when it was loaded to the gunnels with soft dough. We took the cream, Possum, and Birch stowed it.”
“Where?”
“That’s what I know!” said Zach cagily. “And I’m the only guy in the whole outfit that knew anything about the lay. I stuck with Birch one night when he took a pile of swag to bury it.”