"Understand one thing," he bade his captors, through a cloud of smoke. "I've expected this. I've worked for it. And I have written very fully about all angles of this particular case. If anything happens to me, the police will get my report."
It was patently a bluff, and in an effort to show that it did not work both men laughed scornfully.
"We're hotter than a couple wolves in a prairie fire right now," the triangle-faced one assured him. "Anyway, no dumb cop would believe the truth about the boss."
That convinced Gascon that he was on his way to Tom-Tom. Too, the remark about "a coupla wolves" showed that the driver thought of only two members of the gang. Tom-Tom's following must have been reduced to these. Gascon sat back with an air of enjoying the ride. Growling again, his big companion leaned over and slapped him around the body. There was no hard lump to betray knife or pistol, and the bulky fellow grunted to show that he was satisfied. Gascon was satisfied as well. His pockets were not probed into, and he was carrying a weapon that, if unorthodox, was nevertheless efficient. He foresaw the need and the chance to use it.
"Is Miss Cole all right?" he asked casually.
"Pipe down, you!" snapped his companion from the driver's seat. "Let the boss do the talking to this egg."
"Your boss likes to do the talking, I judge," put in Gascon, still casually. "Do you like to listen? Or," and his voice took on a mocking note, "does he give you the creeps?"
"Never mind," Square-Face muttered. "He's doing okay."
"But not his followers," suggested Gascon. "Quite a few of them have been killed, eh? And aren't you two the only survivors of the old Dilson crowd? How long will your luck hold out, I wonder?"
"Longer than yours," replied the man at the wheel sharply. "If you talk any more, we'll put the slug on you."
The remainder of the ride was passed in silence, and the car drew up at length before a quiet suburban cottage, on the edge of town almost directly opposite the scene of the recent fight between police and the Salters.
The three entered a dingy parlor, full of respectable looking furniture. "Keep him here," Triangle-Face bade Square-Face. "I'll go help the boss get ready to talk to him."