At the station-house he delivered the commands that O'Malley had given him. There his words produced consternation, but no thought of disaffection. The patrol-wagon was ordered to be in its stable, ready to leave at the given hour, and Riley, as the officer regularly assigned to night-work on the beat in which stood Rose's house, was forced to remain to accompany it. "An' see here, you men,"--these were the words with which the brief instructions were concluded--"you see to it nobody gets ahead of you. This is O'Malley's job, an' it's got to be done right." In the underworld of every city, news, however, travels even while it is in the making, and in no direction does it travel more swiftly, just as in no other does it travel more indirectly, than, when the slave-trade is concerned, it travels to the traders. Riley was careful to remain in full view of the sergeant's desk from the moment the arrangements were made until the time of execution--he would not have dared to communicate with the friends that had thus swiftly become the enemy--none of the wagon-crew were seen to leave the stable, to use the telephone, or to speak to a passerby, and yet, shortly before the appointed time, through a certain club-room over a not far distant saloon--a club-room much affected by young men in Max Grossman's profession--there soon spread the definite tidings that Rosie Légère had just been "piped off." The swarthy and brilliant Rafael Angelelli heard the word, and straightway, beyond all doubting, confirmed it. With the unheeded easy evening breeze tumbling his uncovered oily locks, he ran to the nearest booth-telephone, and hurriedly called Rose upon the wire. "Eet ees comin'!" he whispered excitedly into the transmitter. Rose's voice replied with stolid assurance. "What's comin'?" she asked. "_Poliziotti_--cops," replied the Italian, finding more and more difficulty with his English as his panic increased. "Eet ees Angel talkin'.--I jus' getta da _nuova_.--They maka da pinch!" "Quit your kiddin'." "Naw. _Veraménte. Crêdi tu!_ Queeck!" His fright hit the mark. "How'd it happen?" demanded Rose. "Who's back of it?" "Dees Meest' Dyker." "You fool Dago"--her voice grew shrill with fear and anger--"can't you do nothin'?" "Naw. 'E's been to O'Malley." "You're a hell of a help! How about Riley an' the rest?" "Naw. O'Malley maka them do thees." "It's that slut Violet, that's who it is! That's gratitude for you. I've been half expectin' trouble since she got loose last night.--How long have I?" "I don' know. Maybe five min'; maybe one." "My Gawd!" "Don' hang up! Leesten: firs' t'eeng you do getta da new girl out. Eef they getta dees new girl you go----" But there came a quick click from the other end of the wire. Rose had ended the conversation. Angel, still hatless, hurried through the few intervening streets and darted into that street to which he had just been speaking.