Sonnino recognises you. The
letter is identified at the Sixth Avenue place, and _you_ are identified
as the guy that's been travelling under the name of Martin Moore. J.
Barca has flown the coop and can't be found, and--well, I guess you get
it, don't you?"
"What--what do you want?" The boy did not lift his head.
"We want your father to let up, and let up damned quick," said Laroque
evenly. "But we'll give _you_ a chance to get out from under, and you
can take it or leave it--it doesn't matter to us. Your father's got the
papers and the affidavits in the 'Private Club' case in his safe at home
to-night, and a lot of those affidavits he can never replace--we've seen
to that! All right! You've got the combination of the safe. Go home and
get that stuff and bring it here. If it's here by four o'clock--that
gives you about three hours--you're out of it. If it isn't, then your
father gets inside information that the gang is wise to the fact that
his son pulled a break tonight, but that they can keep Sonnino's mouth
shut if he throws up the sponge, and that if he doesn't call it off
with the 'Private Club Ring,' if he's so blamed fond of prosecuting,
he'll get a chance to prosecute his own son--as a thief!"
The boy did not move.
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