"He'll have a broken bone or two, maybe," said Ronicky, peering calmly
into the darkness, "but he'll live to trap somebody else, curse him!"
And, picking up their suit cases again, they started to retrace their
steps.




Chapter Seven


_The First Clue_

They did not refer to the incidents of that odd reception in New York
until they had located a small hotel for themselves, not three blocks
away. It was no cheaper, but they found a pleasant room, clean and
with electric lights. It was not until they had bathed and were
propped up in their beds for a good-night smoke, which cow-punchers
love, that Bill Gregg asked: "And what gave you the tip, Ronicky?"

"I dunno. In my business you got to learn to watch faces, Bill.
Suppose you sit in at a five-handed game of poker. One gent says
everything with his face, while he's picking up his cards. Another
gent don't say a thing, but he shows what he's got by the way he moves
in his chair, or the way he opens and shuts his hands. When you said
something about our wad I seen the taxi driver blink. Right after that
he got terrible friendly and said he could steer us to a friend of his
that could put us up for the night pretty comfortable. Well, it wasn't
hard to put two and two together. Not that I figured anything out.