But when you come to
that garage over there--see it?--I want you to yell, 'Extra--
special extra! All about the great gambling exposure. Warrants
out!' Just go in there. They'll buy, all right. And if you say a
word about anyone giving you these papers to sell--I'll chase you
and get back this dollar to the last cent. You'll go to the Gerry
Society--get me?"
The boy did. The bait was as alluring as the threat terrible.
After Garrick had given him final instructions not to start with
the papers for at least five minutes, we slipped quietly around
the next street and came out near the Old Tavern, but not in front
of it.
Garrick left the car--I had been riding almost on the mud guard--
in charge of Warrington's man, who was to appear to be tinkering
with the engine as an excuse for waiting there, and to keep an eye
on anything that happened down the street.
We made our way into our room at the Tavern with more than
ordinary caution, for fear that something might have been
discovered.
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