Finally Butch says that as long as he can take John Ignatius Junior with him he sees no
reason why he shall not go and open the safe for them, only he says he must have five per
cent. more to put in the baby's bank when he gets back, so as to round himself up with his
ever-loving wife in case of a beef from her over keeping the baby out in the night air.
Harry the Horse says he considers this extra five per cent. a little strong, but Spanish
John, who seems to be a very square guy, says that after all it is only fair to cut the baby
in if it is to be with them when making the score, and Little Isadore seems to think this is
all right, too. So Harry the Horse gives in, and says five per cent. it is.
Well, as they do not wish to start out until after midnight, and as there is plenty of time,
Big Butch gets out some more needled beer, and then he goes looking for the tools with
which he opens safes, and which he says he does not see since the day John Ignatius
Junior is born and he gets them out to build the crib.
Now this is a good time for me to bid one and all farewell, and what keeps me there is
something I cannot tell you to this day, because personally I never before have any idea
of taking part in a safe opening, especially with a baby, as I consider such actions very
dishonourable. When I come to think over things afterwards, the only thing I can figure is
the needled beer, but I wish to say I am really very much surprised at myself when I find
myself in a taxicab along about one o'clock in the morning with these Brooklyn parties
and Big Butch and the baby.
Butch has John Ignatius Junior rolled up in a blanket, and John is still pounding his ear.
Butch has a satchel of tools, and what looks to me like a big flat book, and just before we
leave the house Butch hands me a package and tells me to be very careful with it. He
gives Little Isadore a smaller package, which Isadore shoves into his pistol pocket, and
when Isadore sits down in the taxi something goes wa-wa, like a sheep, and Big Butch
becomes very indignant because it seems Isadore is sitting on John Ignatius Junior's doll,
which says 'Mamma' when you squeeze it.
It seems Big Butch figures that John Ignatius Junior may wish something to play with in
case he wakes up, and it is a good thing for Little Isadore that the mamma doll is not
squashed so it cannot say 'Mamma' any more, or the chances are Little Isadore will get a
good bust in the snoot.
We let the taxicab go a block away from the spot we are headed for in West Eighteenth
Street, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues, and walk the rest of the way two by two. I
walk with Big Butch carrying my package, and Butch is lugging the baby and his satchel
and the flat thing that looks like a book. It is so quiet down in West Eighteenth Street at
such an hour that you can hear yourself think, and in fact I hear myself thinking very
plain that I am a big sap to be on a job like this, especially with a baby, but I keep going
just the same, which shows you what a very big sap I am, indeed.
There are very few people in West Eighteenth Street when we get there, and one of them
is a fat guy who is leaning against a building almost in the centre of the block, and who
takes a walk for himself as soon as he sees us. It seems that this fat guy is the watchman