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No police but no friendly faces, either -- lust a moment; there was Auntie Singham.
Of the many fortunetellers who worked Joy Street Auntie Singham was the best; she never purveyed anything but good fortune. If these things failed to come to pass, no customer ever complained; Auntie's warm voice carried conviction. Some whispered that she improved her own fortunes by passing information to the police, but Thorby did not believe it because Pop did not. She was a likely source of news and Thorby decided to chance it -- the most she could tell the police was that he was alive and on the loose . . . which they knew.
Around the corner to Thorby's right was the Port of Heaven cabaret; Auntie was spreading her rug on the pavement there, anticipating customers spilling out at the end of a performance now going on. ,
Thorby glanced each way and hurried along the wall almost to the cabaret. "Psst! Auntie!"
She looked around, looked startled, then her face became expressionless. Through unmoving lips she said, loud enough to reach him, "Beat it, son! Hide! Are you crazy?"
"Auntie . . . where have they got him?"
"Crawl in a hole and pull it in after you. There's a reward out!" "For me? Don't be silly. Auntie; nobody would pay a reward for me. Just tell me where they're holding him. Do you know?"
"They're not."
" 'They're not' what?"
"You don't know? Oh, poor lad! They've shortened him
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