“Wha'?"
"Reach under the table.”
Gillis secured and pocketed the medicine.
“An' here's two-fifty for a good day's work.” Uggam passed the money over. Perhaps he grew careless; certainly the passing this time was above the table, in plain sight.
“Thanks, Mouse.”
Two white men had been watching Gillis and Uggam from a table near by. In the tumult of merriment that rewarded the entertainer's most recent and daring effort, one of these men, with a word to the other, came over and took the vacant chair beside Gillis.
"Is your name Gillis?”
“'Tain' nuthin' else.”
Uggam's eyes narrowed.
The white man showed King Solomon a police officer's badge.
“You're wanted for dope-peddling. Will you come along without trouble?”
“Fo' what?”
“Violation of the narcotic law—dope-selling."
“Who—me?”
“Come on, now, lay off that stuff. I saw what happened just now myself.” He addressed Uggam. "Do you know this fellow?"
"Nope. Never saw him before to-night.”
“Didn't I just see him sell you something?"
“Guess you did. We happened to be sittin' here at the same table and got to talkin'. After a while I says I can't seem to sleep nights, so he offers me sump'n he says'll make me sleep, all right. I don't know what it is, but he says he uses it himself an' I offers to pay him what it cost him. That's how Icome to take it. Guess he's got more in his pocket there now."
The detective reached deftly into the coat pocket of the dumfounded King Solomon and withdrew a packet of envelopes. He tore off a corner of one, emptied a half-dozen tiny white tablets into his palm, and sneered triumphantly. "You'll make a good witness,” he told Uggam.
