Before he could finish his question, the saloonkeeper interrupted in a silky voice. He had eyes that reflected the light as if they were as hard and polished as ball bearings. “Why are we threatening you? Because you’re going to do something for us. If you do it, you will come home to Chicago and find your girl Daisy just like you left her. You got my promise, the word goes out tonight: anybody so much as whistles at her, he’s dragged in here to answer to me. If you don’t do what we ask, well . . . I’ll let you guess. Actually, you don’t have to guess. I’ve already told you. Understand?”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me that you understand before we go on to what we want.”

Eustace saw no way out of this mess other than to say, “I understand.”

“Do you understand that if you go to the cops, you’ll never know which cops are our cops.”

Eustace had grown up in Chicago. He knew about cops and gangsters, and he’d heard the old stories about Harry Frost. He nodded that he understood. The saloonkeeper raised an inquiring eyebrow and waited until Eustace repeated out loud, “I understand.”

“Good. Then you and Daisy will live happily ever after.”

“When will you tell me what you want?”

“Right now. Do you see this here pot?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see what’s in there boiling?”

“It smells like paraffin.”

“That’s what it is. It’s paraffin wax. Do you see this?” he held up the three-inch length of three-quarter-inch copper tubing.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“It’s a length of copper pipe.”

“Blow out the candle.”

Eustace looked puzzled.

The saloonkeeper said, “Lean down here and blow out the candle so the paraffin wax stops boiling.”

Eustace leaned down, wondering if it was a trick, and they were going hit him or throw the boiling wax in his face. The back of his neck tingled as he blew out the candle. No one hit him. No one threw hot wax in his face.

“Good. Now we’ll wait a moment for it to cool.”

The saloonkeeper sat in complete silence. The toughs at the door shifted on their feet. Eustace heard a murmur of conversation from the saloon and a bark of laughter.

“Pick up the copper tube.”

Eustace picked it up, more curious now than afraid.

“Dip one end in the paraffin. Careful, don’t burn your fingers on the pot. Still hot.”

Eustace dipped the tube in the paraffin, which was congealing and growing solid as it cooled.