The policeman on duty at the door was the only other person in
the room, and in consequence Burke permitted himself, quite
unashamed, to employ those methods of persuasion which have risen
to a high degree of admiration in police circles.
"Come across now!" he admonished. His voice rolled forth like
that of a bull of Bashan. He was on his feet, facing the two
thieves. His head was thrust forward menacingly, and his eyes
were savage. The two men shrank before him--both in natural
fear, and, too, in a furtive policy of their own. This was no
occasion for them to assert a personal pride against the man who
had them in his toils.
"I don't know nothin'!" Chicago Red's voice was between a snarl
and a whine. "Ain't I been telling you that for over an hour?"
Burke vouchsafed no answer in speech, but with a nimbleness
surprising in one of his bulk, gave Dacey, who chanced to be the
nearer of the two, a shove that sent the fellow staggering
half-way across the room under its impetus.
With this by way of appreciable introduction to his seriousness
of purpose, Burke put a question:
"Dacey, how long have you been out?"
The answer came in a sibilant whisper of dread.
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