persecution by the police was bringing down upon the whole gang.
In the bar, one of the O'Hara henchmen sidled up to him.
"Listen," he said out of one corner of his mouth, "I heard to-day that the Spingola mob's out to get you."
"They've tried it before," retorted Tony coldly.
"I know. But this time it's for blood; they say they're not goin' to miss."
"Thanks," said Tony. "Well, I guess I'll have to go back to packin' a gun, dicks or no dicks, and take a chance on bein' able to throw it away if they pick me up."
Tony moved slowly out to the sidewalk and beckoned his bodyguard, who was lounging in a doorway across the street, smoking a cigarette. The boy came across the street, a slender, white-faced chap with a weak chin and burning black eyes.
"I just got a tip that the Spingola mob's after me right," said Tony. "And I ain't got a gun. I'm goin' to the flat now to get my artillery. So watch sharp."
He glanced quickly up and down the street then he turned and started down the sidewalk, walking
