Carrol put his hand out to grasp McKay’s collar. McKay swung from the hip and landed a lucky punch on Carrol’s jaw. Carrol went down. Somebody whooped with glee a little further down the bar. Carrol’s husky assistant moved in to grip with McKay. The barfly who had shown such pleasure when Carrol was hit now flung the contents of a glass into the bouncer’s eyes. Carrol’s man wiped the liquid from his face with his palm, then shifted his attack to his new source of trouble, forgetting McKay, who grasped the advantage and let him, too, have one from the hip. But Carrol was up now and rocked McKay with a blow that landed flush on his mouth, sending him to the floor. That should have ended it, serving as it did in place of the few more drinks that it would have taken to put McKay in the same position, but Carrol’s lieutenant had made a serious mistake in now ignoring the man who had flung the drink at him. That playful lad picked up a half-empty bottle from the bar and greeted his adversary, at close quarters, with a sharp crack on the skull. Then somebody took it into his head to feel sorry for the bouncer and clouted the temporary victor. In another minute all but a few men, the girls and Brady and Lowry were in the thick of it. Lowry and Brady stood close to the bar and watched what they could see of the brawl. Somebody yelled “he cut me” which indicated a more or less successful stabbing. Brady eased himself over to the door and returned in a few minutes with two patrolmen in black leather windbreakers. The latter looked more like a couple of seedy building watchmen rather than cops on a big city force but they made up for the poor figures they cut with the zest with which they wielded their night sticks. A respect for the law, even if a little slow in coming, was restored and the two policemen took ten of the most troublesome in tow, just as the siren of the patrol wagon was heard outside.

3

3

Brady stooped down and yanked the unconscious McKay to his feet.

“Take this one too,” he told the policemen.

They shook McKay into wakefulness and supported by one of the cops, he staggered along, rolling his head from side to side as if it were attached to his neck by hinges. The police who had come with the wagon met them at the door.

“That one was all right where he was,” Lowry said pointedly.

“Which one?” Brady asked.

“McKay, the one you reminded them to take along.”

“Friend of yours?”

“In a way. I knew him before he went to pot.”

“Can’t say much for your friends, Lowry.”

They both started for the door.