Chapter 21
Mr. Fischer's business later on that night led him into unsavoury parts. He left his car at the corner of Fourteenth Street, and, after a moment's reflection, as though to refresh his memory, he made his way slowly eastwards. He wore an unusually shabby overcoat, and a felt hat drawn over his eyes, both of which garments he had concealed in the automobile. Even then, however, his appearance made him an object of some comment. A little gang of toughs first jostled him and then turned and followed in his footsteps. A man came out of the shadows, and they broke away with an oath. "That cop'll get his head broke some day," Fischer heard one of them mutter, with appropriate adjectives. There were others who looked curiously at him. One man's hand he felt running over his pockets as he pushed
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