The three men were jubilant. They toasted each other’s health many times in raw, stimulating whiskey and toasted the ultimate success of some secret venture among them. Tonight they had struck, craftily, wearily and it would not be many weeks more, they assured each other, until they would have in their hands alone the disposition of all the underworld rackets.
Things had gone even better than they had anticipated. As a result of their cunning and craft, the three rival gangs were on the point of entering a war of extermination. That was just what they wanted. Let Jew wipe out Chinaman, and Chink clean up Irish, and the Harps pulverize the Semites. Then these unholy double-crossing treacherous rats would step in and take command.
Sadie’s loyal heart was filled with an all consuming rage after her scene with Little Hymie. That she of all people should be accused of being a rat! A double-crossing rat, squealing on her brother!
In the heat of the moment, as she stormed out of Little Hymie’s headquarters, she planned and vowed a thousand fantastic vengeances. She would show Hymie, if he insisted on thinking her crooked, just how crooked she could be. The thing that hurt most of all was the implied reflection on her lover. Little Hymie had said what he had just because she was running around with Shanty. And she knew that Shanty Hogan would be the last person in the world to take double-crossing info from her.
But Hymie was right. Information was leaking somewhere. The thought sobered Sadie’s flaming anger against her brother. She spent a bitter half hour in trying to locate the leak. Who was the rat? That he existed she felt sure. The only way she had of vindicating herself in Little Hymie’s eyes, was to show him the real punk in the outfit. The more she mulled over the proposition, the more surely she came to the one conclusion. She would put the matter up to Shanty himself.
Late into the night, Shanty, Groucho and Smiling Jimmie brooded over a bottle. The room was heavy and bitter with the acrid smoke of many cigarettes. Their words were few and monosyllabic.
Then came a discreet rap at the door. At first they ignored it. The knock was repeated, this time more insistent. Shanty raised his bloodshot eyes from the table and turned his shaggy head toward the door.
“Well, what is it?” he snarled.
At his voice, the oaken panel slid open and the head of one of his henchmen thrust into the room.
“Sadie’s outside,” he said. “Wants to see you bad. Right away.”
The men stiffened in their chairs. Smiling Jimmie and Groucho silently eyed their leader, wondering how he would meet the situation. A thousand doubts assailed Shanty. A thousand fears, loves, hates and lusts. Could it be that the girl he loved was playing him dirt; was playing him for a sucker?
His love and desire struggled with his hate. Should he see her? He was about to send out word for her to go to hell when a sudden thought stayed him. Just what was so important that Sadie had to see him at that hour of the night? Had little Hymie sent her to him to get his new plans of campaign?
“Send her in, Scraggy,” he said at last. And his voice was cold, ominous, deadly.
Sadie swept confidently into the room, the swish of her skirts revealing her insinuating hips. Straight up to Shanty she marched, her hands reaching out for him.
Then she staggered back, for even before she could touch him, he sent her reeling across the room with a powerful right arm.
She recovered herself swiftly and was immediately on the defensive. She was not quite sure how to take this new attitude on the part of her lover.
“Say, you bum,” she began, “is that your idea of a love tap. It don’t fit in with mine.”
“Love tap, hell!” answered Shanty. “It ain’t. That mushy stuff is over between us, girl. What do you want here?”
Sadie was taken completely aback at this line of talk.
“Shanty—” she began pleadingly.
“Can it! Can it!” he growled. “That boloney don’t go any more, see. You made a sucker out o’ me long enough. What kind of a sap do you think I am. Dumb? By God, if I was only positive you’re the one that’s been double crossing me. I’d choke that neck of yours till your tongue dropped out.”
At this new attack on her honor, Sadie was indeed stricken.
“You too, eh, Shanty?” she said sadly. “A hell of a lot you guys know about women. Hell. All men are lice, anyway.” Then her pride and anger got the better of her.
“You’re just as dumb as that dope brother of mine. First he kicks me out with a clout on the jaw for squealing to you and now you give me the works for squealing to him. It’s a laugh, eh? A great big laugh! You’re a lot of wise guys! Wise, hell! You’re all hams, palookas. If I wanted to rat on you, don’t you think I could have done it long ago. Put you on the spot dead? And the same goes for that flat-nosed Jew brother of mine. Men are all lice.”
“Easy what you say,” began Shanty threateningly, but Sadie’s flow of angry words could not be stopped.
“To hell with you dumb mugs,” she flung out and her lashing tongue stung the three men to silence. “Of course there’s a leak somewhere — a blind man could see that. But I’m not the stool — see? Not for you, Shanty Hogan or for Little Hymie Zeiss. But I guess the only way I can make you believe that is to get the dirty rat myself. You guys are too dumb. All you do is sit on your cans and talk, talk, talk. Lice! All of you.”
“Listen here, Sadie...”
“Aw, go to hell!” she flung back.
And with this defiance on her lips she stamped out of the room, complete master of the situation.
“Now I wonder,” muttered Shanty, when the door had closed behind her. “I wonder. Sadie was a pretty swell kid.”
Sadie didn’t get to bed until five o’clock that morning. Tired as she was, aching in every limb, she did not sleep. Restlessly she tossed from side to side, thinking, thinking. There was some tiny germ of inspiration fermenting in the back of her mind. In vain she tried to bring it to light.
She began by marshalling all the facts of the three gangs before her. Then something very startling struck her.
Her brother, Little Hymie, thought that somebody was squealing to Shanty Hogan and the latter thought the same thing in reverse. And to make the situation still more complicated, China Cholly also got inside information on both the rival gangs.
What did that mean in the final analysis? Simply, there must be more than one squealer! Then inspiration!
The most obvious thing was that there were three rats, one in each gang. That would easily account for the double, double-cross. What their object could be she had not the slightest idea, but the more she considered the matter, the more surely she felt that she was right.
She knew that she would get no consideration from Little Hymie and pride forbade her from going to Shanty with her theory. Only one resource remained open for her. She would see China Cholly and put the matter up to the shrewd and wily Chink.
With this resolution in her mind and a faint smile of triumph on her lips, she at last found a deep and untroubled sleep.
With all the oily, subtle grace of his race, China Cholly extended the hospitality of his house to Sadie when she called on him the following afternoon. At a clap of his hands, tea and rice cakes were served to them by a mute Oriental who bowed deferentially to the white woman.
When they were alone China Cholly smiled enigmatically but said nothing. He waited for his visitor to begin. Sadie swallowed the last of her tea at a gulp and dove into the heart of the matter.