think like a thief.
Three hours after he concluded his first interview with the lady one of
his operatives walked up behind Cheesy and tapped him on the shoulder
and inquired of him whether he would go along nice and quiet for a talk
with the boss or was inclined to make a fuss about it. In either event,
so Cheesy was assured, he, could have his wish gratified. And Cheesy,
who had the heart of a rabbit--a rabbit feeding on other folks' cabbage,
but a timorous, nibbling bunny for all that--Cheesy, he went.

In Toronto Marr peaked and pined. He probably was safe enough for so
long as he bided there; there had been no newspaper publicity, and he
felt reasonably sure that openly, at least, the aid of regular police
departments would not be set in motion against him; so he put the
thoughts of arrest and extradition and such like unpleasant
contingencies out of his mind. But li'l' old N'York was his proper
abiding place. The smell of its streets had a lure for him which no
other city's streets had. His crowd was there--the folk who spoke his
tongue and played his game. And there the gudgeons on which his sort
fed schooled the thickest and carried the most savory fat on their bones
as they skittered over the asphaltum shoals of the Main Stem.

For a month, emulating Uncle Remus' Brer Fox, he lay low, resisting the
gnawing discontent that kept screening delectable visions of Broadway
and the Upper Forties and Seventh Avenue before his homesick eyes. It
was a real nostalgia from which he suffered. He endured it, though, with
what patience he might lest a worse thing befall. And at the end of that
month he went back to the big town; an overpowering temptation was the
reason for his going. There had arisen a chance for a large turnover and
a quick get-away again, with an attractively large sum to stay him and
comfort him after he resumed his enforced exile. An emissary from the
Gulwing mob ran up to Toronto and dangled the lure before his eyes.

Harbored in New York at the present moment was a beautiful prospect--a
supremely credulous cattleman from the Far West, who had been playing
the curb market. A crooks' tipster who was a clerk in a bucket shop
downtown had for a price passed the word to the Gulwings, and the
Gulwings--Sig and Alf--were intentful to strip the speculative Westerner
before the curb took from him the delectable core of his bank roll. But
the Gulwing organization, complete as it is in most essential details,