When they want to hide, they burrow under one
of these rookeries. That's where the police look for them, only they've
got so many holes they can't stop them all. Captain Packett of the Ninth
Precinct told me the other day that he'd rather hunt a rattlesnake in a
tiger's cage than go open-handed into some of the rookeries around
Washington Street. I am never afraid in these places; a doctor's like a
Sister of Charity or a hospital nurse--they're safe anywhere. I don't
believe that other fellow would have stolen my watch if he had known I
was a doctor.
"When we left the car at Canal Street, my companion whispered to me to
follow him, no matter where he went. We kept along close to the houses,
past the dives--the streets, even here, were almost deserted; then I saw
him drop down a cellarway. I followed, through long passages, up a
creaking pair of stairs, along a deserted corridor--only one gas-jet
burning--up a second flight of stairs and into an empty room, the door
of which he opened with a key which he held in his hand.
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