He was glad it was growing dark, for he didn’t relish being seen talking to this tough character, although Jenny did not look half bad tonight. She wasn’t dressed as gaudily as usual.

“Yes,” he said to her. “What is it?”

Jenny’s face took on a pleading look.

“I know I was a little wrong in tryin’ to mix things up at your store and I thought maybe I could come around tonight and square things up.” Her look grew more sympathetic. “’Cause deep down in my heart I likes Babe an’ I heard lots o’ nice things about you.”

Baldwin was impatient.

“Yes—yes. Do you know where she is?” He wasn’t anxious for a long conversation with this person. He merely wanted information.

“Well, that’s it,” Jenny said. “I know where she is. I want to do you a good turn now.”

From her bag she drew a slip of paper and handed it to him.

“Here’s where you can find her. That big nigger is bad when he drinks, and I don’t want nothin’ to happen to her. Of course, this information might not be worth anythin’ to you, but again it might. I tried to get you all day.”

Baldwin knew what she was hinting at. He drew a sheaf of bills from his wallet, selected a fifty-dollar bill and handed it to her.

“Here, this may help a bit. Thank you for letting me know.”

Jenny took the bill, and told Baldwin the rest of the story. She looked at the bill in the dim light of the evening. “Well,” she said to herself, “it ain’t so bad. It’s better than nothin’. Now I’ll git back and see the works.”

Baldwin returned to the apartment, his head in a whirl. The words, “That nigger is bad when he drinks,” ran in his mind and sent a chill of fear for Babe shivering over him. It made him think of the loaded gun in Babe’s trunk. It might be well to have it along, in case—well, just in case.

He slipped the gun into the right-hand pocket of his jacket, went down in the elevator and started across town.

Babe had awakened from her heavy opium-induced sleep and felt the need of air. She went to the parlor window and opened the shutter. She looked down and saw someone who appeared very familiar to her. A man was standing near a lamp-post and under the glare of light she saw that it was the Bearcat with his cab. There was no mistake about that.

“Hell,” she exclaimed under her breath, “I’ll never get out of here now. Kerist! Who tipped him off I was here? With him followin’ me now, goddam it, I’ll never get nowheres.”

XXIV A WOMAN AND THREE MEN