Alsop handed Garth a crumpled, torn, and soiled post-card.
"That came in the noon mail. Must have been picked up by somebody and dropped in a post box. I figure Brown, before they got him, threw it out of a window, or some such thing. Anyway that settled it. It brought me here for a quiet talk."
Garth read the card. A single line, almost undecipherable, sprawled across the back:
"Danger to-morrow night. Brown."
"That means to-night," Garth said. "Had you planned anything important for to-night?"
Marvin laughed a little. Alsop spread his hands.
"The conference with capitalists and politicians at which we settle on certain legislation that will put some of these foreign anarchists on the skids, snatch American labor beyond their influence, and give the honest business man a chance to make a fair profit by driving his men as he should. See here, inspector. I'm not afraid of good Americans. They may put me out of business, but if they do, I'll know I've been beaten in a fair fight. It's these damned foreign anarchists and some sore central Europeans I'm afraid of. I expect some important men from Wall Street and Washington to-night. I can't let them walk into a bomb, and I don't want any high explosives myself."
The inspector grunted.
"Nasty situation. I'm no politician. Fight crime. We'll see what we can do. It's a good thing you found Garth here."
