This, at least, was a different car, I
knew. Now I realised the wisdom of allowing this man, whom they
called the Boss, to go free. Under the influence of Garrick's
"plant," he was to lead us to the right trail to the Chief.
It was easier now to follow the car since it had worked its way
into lower Fifth Avenue. On uptown it went. We hung on doggedly in
the mass of traffic going north at this congested hour.
At last it turned into Forty-seventh Street. It was stopping at
the ladies' gambling joint, apparently to confirm the news. I had
thought that the place was closed, until the present trouble blew
over, but it seemed that there must be someone there. The Boss was
evidently well known, for he was immediately admitted.
Garrick did not stop. He kept on around the corner to the raided
poolroom on the next street. Dillon's man, who had been stationed
there to watch the place, bowed and admitted him.
"I'm going to throw it into him good, this time," remarked
Garrick, as he entered.
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