The Kid was an immediate success and as such was soon taken in as a welcome member of the night life. The inconspicuous dish on top of the piano was filled more often than not, and it was not seldom that bills nestled there amid the silver coins. Puggy was making a good living, but was not satisfied. He could not forget the diamonds.
He occasionally came into contact with Big Mike and a mutual liking sprang up between them, but Puggy was no fool, and he realized that Mike would not let go of what he once had his hands on.
It was nearly a month later the Kid had the opportunity of broaching the subject that was always on his mind, for one night Big Mike sauntered up to the piano and stood talking with the Kid before the crowds had started to arrive.
“Say, Mike,” Puggy began, “will you do something for me?”
“Sure, kid,” Big Mike laughed as he reached into his pocket. “How much?”
“Not that,” repudiated the Kid. “It’s something more. Say — what did you ever do with that load of ice you found in your overcoat pocket about a month ago?”
Mike looked at him in surprise. “What’s the matter, Kid, been taking nose candy? You don’t look like a snow bird. What ice are you talking about?”
“Oh, you know all right,” replied the Kid suspiciously. “I mean that bunch that was wrapped up in a cloth that someone dropped in the pocket of your benny on the ferryboat. I need the coin, Mike, and I’ll put it over the fence and split with you, or you can do it and split with me. It’s fifty-fifty.”
“You must be hopped up,” said Big Mike coldly. “I never had no ice slipped to me.”
The Kid jumped from the stool angrily and turned towards the door.
“All right then,” he cried, “if you’re that sort. I thought you was a square shooter, but you’re just a dirty rat like the rest of them.”
Big Mike uttered a strong oath and sprang forward, grasping the arm of the smaller man tightly above the elbow. He savagely whirled him around, and his fist drew back to punish the man who dared to doubt his squareness.
But he had not gained his supremacy in the underworld without learning to control himself, and his cupidity was aroused at mention of the ice. He hesitated a moment, then released the futilely struggling Kid.
“Wait a moment, Kid,” he said slowly. “There’s something more behind all this. Let’s get to the bottom of it. Spill the works.”
Puggy was too wise to incriminate himself even to Big Mike so he thought for a moment before answering.
“I had a pal who saw he was going to be gloomed on the ferryboat coming over from Frisco, so just before he was pinched he stuck a green covered package of sparklers in your overcoat pocket. He wants me to get them so he can beat the rap. That’s all the story.”
“That’s right in part,” said Mike thoughtfully. “I was across the bay about a month ago and wore my benny, but I’ll swear I never found anything in the pockets. I haven’t worn it since, either. Let’s go to my rooms and take a look.”
Once in his rooms, Mike opened a closet and took a coat from a hangar.
“That’s the one,” exclaimed the Kid excitedly. “Look in the pockets.”
With eager hands Big Mike explored the pockets, turning them inside out as he did so, then handed the coat to Puggy who also searched vainly. They looked at each other in silence. The Kid could not help but believe that Mike was playing fair, was ignorant of any package, for he could not be such a good actor, nor would there be any necessity for his so doing. “Who could have got the stones?”
Big Mike cursed suddenly and the Kid looked at him inquiringly.
“I remember dropping the damned thing on the walk, and I picked it up by the bottom. A few coins dropped out. Maybe the ice dropped out with them and I never noticed it. I was in a hurry.”
“Then it’s gone,” said the Kid despondently. “Whoever picked it up has cashed in and beat it. Damn such luck!”
Big Mike knitted his brows in thought and then again searched the pockets. His hand brought forth a card, and he looked at it, his face lightened.
“Maybe you stuck it in the wrong coat, Kid,” he offered. “This guy had on a coat just like mine, and was on the same boat. That’s how we got acquainted. He gave me his card. Let’s hunt him up.”
They got into Mike’s car and at the address on the card were fortunate enough to catch the fireman, Harrison, home between runs. Big Mike recalled himself to the fireman’s memory and introduced Puggy.
“The Kid here is nuts about my benny,” said Mike, “and I won’t sell it to him. I remembered you had one like it and thought you might want to make a good deal. He’s offered me seventy-five smackers for it, and they only cost fifty. How about it?”
Harrison looked at them smilingly.
“Don’t know as I blame him at that,” he said. “I like it myself, but I haven’t got it here. I left it on the train the day I met you and never went back after it. I phoned the Lost and Found Department and they said they would hold it for ninety days, so I knew there was no hurry. Tell you what I’ll do. I’m on the board for a call in an hour, but I’ll be back day after tomorrow, so I’ll get it then and leave it at your place. How about that?”
The Singing Kid saw immense possibilities in that statement so replied:
“That’s O.K. with me. I’m sure nuts about that plaid and I want one like it. I’ll leave the money with Mike and you can get it when you leave the coat.”
Puggy and Big Mike parted at his place, both agreeing to be on hand when Harrison returned, but both knew the other would not keep the appointment. Mike was sure that the opening of the Lost department in the morning would find the Kid waiting at the door, so he resolved to pull a fast one himself.
Also Mike was cursing himself for the break he had made in letting the Kid know about Harrison. Otherwise he would have had it all to himself with no trouble. He decided to call on one of his henchmen, Docky Wilder, for aid, so he would not appear personally in the matter.
So it was that the following morning when the elated Kid left the railroad office, the prized coat over his arm, he softly patted the coat which contained a small green covered parcel. He laughed to himself as he remembered the assurance he had that he had ditched it with Pritchard.
Some coincidence! But a lucky break for him at that. Now he was set for a quick getaway. To hell with Pritchard! He didn’t owe him anything!
Puggy stepped towards the curb and his elation vanished like air from a toy balloon punctured with a pin. He cursed silently as a soft voice met his ears.
“Morning, Kid,” said Docky softly. “Goin’ somewhere?”
“Not in particular,” replied the Kid, sensing the menace beneath the soft tones.
“You don’t know it, but you are,” responded Docky. “I’d shake hands wit’ you only I gotta keep my gat hid. I suppose.”
Puggy looked down and noted that Wilder’s hand was concealed within his coat pocket, and that a lump appeared against his side, a menace against any sudden action.
“You’d never dare use it here,” said the Kid shortly.
“Maybe not,” Docky murmured, “but how’d it be for me to holler to that bull comin’ and ask him to frisk you?”
The Kid’s heart dropped. Docky had him dead to rights, for if he were picked up with the ice in his possession it would be the finish for him. Going with Docky was the least of the two evils, and anyway, he might brazen it out with Pritchard.
“All right, you win now,” he conceded. “Where do we go?”
“My boat’s parked right here. Jump in and we’ll take a ride.”