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Again it roared, blazing through the night, and again they juliht, nostrils flaring, eyes bulging, heads thrashing against their harness, terrified by the whip, the dark, and the screa

It was still raining when the last of the led into the tent city at dawn Mary was last, carrying a child in one arh She was surprised when church ladies, who looked like they had never missed a meal or ironed their own linen, rushed to help They took the child and the mother to a makeshift infirmary and directed Mary to a soup kitchen under a stretched tarpaulin Hundreds of people had lined up to eat, and she had just found the tail end when John Claggart appeared out of nowhere and pressed into her cold hands aof hot coffee that smelled better than seemed possible

Claggart had men with him They were dressed like miners But none, she noticed, looked like they worked with their hands, and she recognized the flash operators who hung around prize rings, pool halls, and racetracks She saw in their eyes their contempt for the miners

“Who are those men?” she asked

“Not choirboys,” Claggart replied boldly “But they’ll get the job done”

The word accomplices wormed its way into her mind

“Criminals?” she asked

Claggart shrugged “It’s not for e But I’ll bet that you and your brother know plenty of ood fight”

“Those I know,” she said, “don’t resemble criminals”

Claggart said, “Give me a brave man, quick on his feet, and I don’t care what you call hi as he knows that the bosses are the real bu the banks and more boats to move them into the channel”

“Missed your spittoon Sorry, chief”

Henry Clay recognized the brown trail of tobacco juice that soiled his pale blue Aubusson carpet for what it was, a challenge by a thug who had never lost a fight and was too stupid to iine that he ever would A dozen of them — all blood-oath— had crowded into his front office through the back hall He would never permit these scum in his private rooms Most didn’t know him from Adam All they kneas their boss had ordered them to appear for a special job But now, instead of quietly listening to Clay’s orders, they were snickering at the mess on his carpet

The spitter’s second mistake was to underestimate a Wall Street swell just because he wore a splendid suit of clothes Clay stood up The Dusters’ boss and his enforcer exchanged expectant glances Pain was about to be suffered

“What’s your name?” Clay asked

“What’s it to you?”