“Until it gets light. The streets are much safer when the sun comes up.”

Corey looked at the little man. “Whaddya mean, safer? You hinting at something?”

“Merely noting a fact,” Carp said. In his palm there was an old-fashioned pocket watch and he glanced at it and murmured, “Seventeen minutes past three. It’s mealtime now for the creatures of the night, the eager claws that lurk in the shadows. I refer in particular to a certain venomous crew that craves to dine on you and you alone. And therefore I recommend utmost discretion—”

“Excuse me,” Corey cut in quietly. He squinted at the little man. “What’s all this noise from the trees? You flying around on some new kind of charge? You imagining things?”

“Not hardly,” the little man said. “In the saloon this evening I heard some talk about a gun fight in the swamplands, in the vicinity of Sixth and Ingersoll.”

“So?”

“So I recalled the errand I performed for you this afternoon. That is, I obtained the address you wanted, and I assume you went to that address. The address was six-seventeen Ingersoll.”

Corey grinned wryly.

The little man glanced again at the old-fashioned pocket watch. “In less than two hours we’ll have daylight. If you’ll wait until then—”

“No,” Corey said. He moved toward the door.

“As your friend, I urge you to wait,” Carp said. “I’ll make some coffee.”

“Coffee.” Corey lowered his hand from the doorknob. “I could use some coffee.”

“I’ll have it ready right away,” Carp said, and got busy with a tiny one-burner coal-oil stove that he pulled out from a corner of the room. On the floor near the bed was a glass jug half-filled with water. He poured some into a pot and set it on the stove. From behind the bookcase he gathered a couple of cups, saucers and spoons, a small sugar bowl and a jar of instant coffee. There was no label on the jar. Carp held it up for display and said, “It’s my own blend. I use a hammer to mash the beans, borrowed here and there from various Turks and Syrians and so forth. Of course the preparation requires considerable time and effort. The hammer is an awkward implement and I’m thinking quite seriously of putting it aside and procuring a mortar and pestle. But on the other hand—”

“Excuse me,” Corey interrupted. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, going through his pockets. “I’m outta cigarettes. You got any around?”

“A plentiful supply,” Carp said, and went to the bookcase, reached in behind it, his hand coming out with a cardboard box containing some folders of cigarette paper and a paper bag bulging with tobacco. Carp’s nimble fingers went to work.

Corey asked, “Where you get the tobacco?”

“From contributors.” Carp’s way of saying that he went around collecting stubs.