The Dark Star

Doc nodded.

Brandes said in his narrow-eyed, sleepy way: "There was a time when they called us gunmen--Ben and me. But, so help

me God, Doc, we never did any work like that ourselves. We never fired

a shot to croak any living guy. Did we, Ben?"

"All right," said Stull impatiently. And, to Curfoot: "Eddie and I

know what we're to do. If it's on the cards that we shoot--well, then,

we'll shoot. The place is to be small, select, private, and first

class. Doc, you act as capper. You deal, too. Eddie sets 'em up. I

deal or spin. All right. We three guys attend to anything American

that blows our way. Get that?"

Curfoot nodded.

"Then for the foreigners, there's to be a guy called Karl Breslau."

Neeland managed to repress a start, but the blood tingled in his

cheeks, and he turned his head a trifle as though seeking better light

on the open pages in his hands.

"This here man Breslau," continued Stull, "speaks all kinds of

languages. He is to have two friends with him, a fellow named Kestner

and one called Weishelm. They trim the foreigners, they do; and----"

"Well, I don't see nothing new about this----" began Curfoot; but

Stull interrupted: "Wait, can't you! This ain't the usual. We run a place for Quint. The

place is like Quint's. We trim guys same as he does--or did. But

there's more to it."

He let his eyes rest on Neeland, obliquely, for a full minute. The

others watched him, too. Presently the young man cut another page of

his book with his pen-knife and turned it with eager impatience, as

though the story absorbed him.

"Don't worry about Frenchy," murmured Brandes with a shrug. "Go ahead,

Ben."

Stull laid one hand on Curfoot's shoulder, drawing that gentleman a

trifle nearer and sinking his voice: "Here's the new stuff, Doc," he said. "And it's brand new to us, too.

There's big money into it. Quint swore we'd get ours. And as we was on

our uppers we went in. It's like this: We lay for Americans from the

Embassy or from any of the Consulates. They are our special game. It

ain't so much that we trim them; we also get next to them; we make 'em

talk right out in church. Any political dope they have we try to get.

We get it any way we can. If they'll accelerate we accelerate 'em; if

not, we dope 'em and take their papers. The main idee is to get a holt

on 'em!

"That's what Quint wants; that's what he's payin' for and gettin' paid

for--inside information from the Embassy and Consulates----"

"What does Quint want of that?" demanded Curfoot, astonished.

"How do I know? Blackmail? Graft? I can't call the dope. But listen

here! Don't forget that it ain't Quint who wants it. It's the big

feller behind him who's backin' him. It's some swell guy higher up

who's payin' Quint. And Quint, he pays us. So where's the squeal

coming?"