Then he rose and turned on the light in his room, and in
Nucky's. The boy hastily jerked the covers over his head. Seaton
pulled the extra blanket at the bed foot over his own shoulders, then
he sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand on Nucky's heaving
back.
"Don't you think, if it's bad enough to make you cry, that it's time
you told a friend about it, Enoch?" he said, his voice a little husky.
For a moment sobs strangled the boy's utterance entirely. Finally, he
pulled the covers down but still keeping his head turned away, he said,
"I want to go home!"
"Home, Enoch? Where's your home?"
"N' York's my home. This joint scares me."
"Whom do you want to see in New York, Enoch?"
"Anybody! Nobody! Even the police station'd look better'n that thing.
I can feel it out there now, waitin' and listenin'!"
Seaton stared blankly at the back of Nucky's head. His experiment was
not turning out at all as he had planned. Jack often had puzzled him
but there had always been something to grasp with Jack. His own boy
had been such a good sport! A good sport! Suddenly Seaton cleared his
throat.
"Enoch, among the men you know, what is the opinion of a squealer?"
"We hate him," replied the boy, shortly.
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