|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The White Moll by Frank L. Packard: there with her clothes on fire. She'd upset a coal-oil stove, or
something. The man Pinkie had seen beats the fire out, and
everybody in the tenement begins to collect around the door. And
then Pinkie goes pop-eyed. The man's face was the face of the White
Moll's dude pal - but he had on the Pug's clothes. Pinkie's a wise
guy. He slips away to me without getting himself in the limelight
or spilling any beans. And I didn't ask him if he'd been punching
the needle again overtime, either. It fitted like a glove with what
happened at old Luertz's last night. You don't know about that.
Pinkie and this double-crossing snitch went there - and only found
a note from the White Moll. He'd tipped her off before, of course,
|
