“Four glasses of Jameson’s quickly,” he said in a low sharp cold voice.
The barmaid stopped laughing as suddenly as if she had been stricken by a pain. She pulled down the shutter, lisping as she did so: “Yes Dan.”
Gallagher came back to Gypo and put his hand again on Gypo’s shoulder. Gypo had his two hands now in his trousers pockets. After his unsuccessful outburst he felt tired. He wanted to go away somewhere and lie down and sleep for days and days. His mind was in a maze. He was very tired. As he looked at Gallagher he even felt a longing to confide his secret to him. Gallagher’s eyes were so devilishly attractive. They seemed to draw things out of Gypo towards themselves. They would be able to form a plan and …
Gypo had uttered one syllable of Gallagher’s name before he realized the real identity of the man and the consequences of a confession to him. The name died on his lips. Gallagher smiled.
“Gypo, old boy,” he said in a friendly tone, “ye had better forget all that’s past. We’ve got something on hand that’s as much your business as ours. So we can act together on it. That’s why I sent Bartly Mulholland into McPhillip’s house to look for ye. A pal of yours has been done in by the police. D’ye hear? It looks like an informer’s job. We have to get that informer. It’s really no business of the Organization because Frank had ceased to be a member. He was only an ordinary civilian criminal as far as we are concerned. But an informer is an informer. He’s got to be wiped out like the first sign of a plague as soon as he’s spotted. He’s a common enemy. He’s got to be got, Gypo. And it’s up to you to give us a hand in tracking the traitor that sent your pal to his death. Because …”
At that moment the slide was drawn up again sharply and the barmaid appeared at the aperture with four glasses of whisky on a tray. Gallagher went to the aperture, paid for the whisky, handed glasses to Connor and Mulholland, received his change, pinched the barmaid’s cheek and made her scream, laughed, pulled down the shutter himself and then advanced smiling to Gypo with a glass of whisky in each hand. He held out one glass to Gypo. Gypo stared at it without making any movement to take it or reject it.
He had followed all Gallagher’s movements with the stupid and suspicious wonder of a terrified wild animal that thinks some trick is being played on it. Now he stared at the glass as if he suspected some trick in that too.
“Take it,” said Gallagher coldly. “Take it, man, if you’ve any sense. It’s better to have me as a friend than as an enemy. If you are not going to help us in this job … er … people might think … er … that …”
“Uh,” began Gypo with a shrug of his whole body. Then he stopped panting. He went on, speaking at a very high pitch. “It’s not that but … Look here … It’s how …” His voice suddenly deepened into a hoarse shout, “It’s how I don’t know what I’m doin’.”
He stopped. Gallagher glanced at Mulholland. Mulholland’s cat’s eyes both winked imperceptibly.
“I’ve been starvin’ here for the past six months,” continued Gypo, suddenly breaking out into a torrent of words. He talked like a Negro, hollow, thunderous and melancholy. “I’ve been kicking about this town an’ every one o’ you fellahs I met passed me by without a word as if I never knew ye. I been over in the House there, livin’ from hand to mouth on whatever I could bum from sailors and pimps and dockers. I got no clothes. I got no money. I got nothin’. An’ then you come up all of a sudden with yer soft talk. Well … uh … how is it that …”
He came to a stop once more with his chest heaving. He seemed to be about to go into a rage once more, but suddenly Gallagher moved closer to him and whispered gently and soothingly:
“Look here, Gypo. I’m going to make a fair deal with you. I’ll admit you have done a lot for the movement. You have paid the penalty during the last six months for the dangerous position you placed the whole Organization in last October. We’ll call that quits on one condition. If you can give us a clue to the man that informed on Francis Joseph McPhillip I’ll get ye taken back again into the Organization at yer old job on Headquarters Staff. Here. Take this drink.”
Gypo’s hand shot out immediately. He grasped the glass and Gallagher’s hand both together in his immense paw. The two men almost struggled trying to disengage their hands. As soon as the glass was free Gypo put it to his lips and drained it. Then he stalked slowly over to the mantelpiece and placed the empty glass on it. With his back to his companions he paused to wipe his mouth with his sleeve.
He wanted time to compose himself. Gallagher’s proposal had taken him so completely by surprise that he was beside himself. Since that infernal moment when he kicked open the door of the police-station, his whole life had been submerged in a pitch-black cloud that was impenetrable and offered no escape. He had been alone, outcast, encompassed by a universal horde of enemies. Now, suddenly, he was offered a means of escape by the great Gallagher himself. Gallagher, the great Gallagher, had made him an offer. He would get back again into the Organization. Again people would be afraid of him. Again clever men would be always at
