"Get out da back room! Da backa room!"

But it was a well-planned raid. No one escaped, and shortly, Nucky was
climbing into the patrol wagon that had appeared silently before the
door. That night he was locked in a cell with a drunken Greek. It was
his first experience in a cell. Hitherto, Officer Foley had protected
him from this ignominy. But Officer Foley, as he told Nucky, was
through with him.

The Greek, except for an occasional oath, slept soddenly. The boy
crouched in a corner of the cell, breathing rapidly and staring into
black space. At dawn he had not changed his position or closed his
eyes.

It was two days later that Officer Foley found a telephone message
awaiting him in the police station. "Mr. John Seaton wants you to call
him up, Foley."

Foley picked up the telephone. Mr. Seaton answered at once. "It was
nothing in particular, Foley, except that I wanted to tell you that the
red-headed boy and his name, particularly that name, in Minetta Lane,
have haunted me. If he gets in trouble again, you'd better let me
know."

"You're too late, Mr. Seaton! He's in up to his neck, now." The
officer described the raid. "The judge has given him eighteen months
at the Point and we're taking him there this afternoon."

"You don't mean it! The young whelp! Foley, what he needs is a
licking and a mother to love him, not reform school."