Tables were kicked over. A small roulette board smashed
into the sealed fire-place. Brown Liz broke a bottle of whiskey on an
officer's helmet and the reek of alcohol merged with that of cigarette
smoke and snow-wet clothes. Luigi freed himself for a moment and
turned off the gas light roaring as he did so.
"Get out da back room! Da backa room!"
But it was a well-planned raid. No one escaped, and shortly, Nucky was
climbing into the patrol wagon that had appeared silently before the
door. That night he was locked in a cell with a drunken Greek. It was
his first experience in a cell. Hitherto, Officer Foley had protected
him from this ignominy. But Officer Foley, as he told Nucky, was
through with him.
The Greek, except for an occasional oath, slept soddenly. The boy
crouched in a corner of the cell, breathing rapidly and staring into
black space. At dawn he had not changed his position or closed his
eyes.
It was two days later that Officer Foley found a telephone message
awaiting him in the police station. "Mr. John Seaton wants you to call
him up, Foley."
Foley picked up the telephone. Mr. Seaton answered at once. "It was
nothing in particular, Foley, except that I wanted to tell you that the
red-headed boy and his name, particularly that name, in Minetta Lane,
have haunted me.
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