The policeman on duty at the door was the only other person in the room, and in consequence Burke permitted himself, quite unashamed, to employ those methods of persuasion which have risen to a high degree of admiration in police circles.
“Come across now!” he admonished. His voice rolled forth like that of a bull of Bashan. He was on his feet, facing the two thieves. His head was thrust forward menacingly, and his eyes were savage. The two men shrank before him--both in natural fear, and, too, in a furtive policy of their own. This was no occasion for them to assert a personal pride against the man who had them in his toils.
“I don't know nothin'!” Chicago Red's voice was between a snarl and a whine. “Ain't I been telling you that for over an hour?”
Burke vouchsafed no answer in speech, but with a nimbleness surprising in one of his bulk, gave Dacey, who chanced to be the nearer of the two, a shove that sent the fellow staggering half-way across the room under its impetus.
With this by way of appreciable introduction to his seriousness of purpose, Burke put a question:
The answer came in a sibilant whisper of dread.
“Want to go back for another stretch?” The Inspector's voice was freighted with suggestions of disasters to come, which were well understood by the cringing wretch before him.
The thief shuddered, and his face, already pallid from the prison lack of sunlight like some noxious growth of a cellar, became livid. His words came in a muffled moan of fear.
Burke left a little interval of silence then in which the thieves might tremble over the prospect suggested by his words, but always he maintained his steady, relentless glare on the cowed creatures. It was a familiar warfare with him. Yet, in this instance, he was destined to failure, for the men were of a type different from that of English Eddie, who was lying dead as the meet reward for treachery to his fellows.... When, at last, his question issued from the close-shut lips, it came like the crack of a gun.
In his eagerness, Chicago Red moved toward his questioner--unwisely.
“Honest to Gawd, I don't know nothin' about it!”
The Inspector's fist shot out toward Chicago Red's jaw. The impact was enough. The thief went to his knees under the blow.