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The two police reached a point right behind him. Thorby tried not to tremble and worked with the steady listlessness of a hired hand with a dull job. He heard Auntie Singham call out, "Good evening, Sergeant."
"Evening, Auntie. What lies are you telling tonight?"
"Lies indeed! I see a sweet young girl in your future, with hands graceful as birds. Let me see your palm and perhaps I can read her name."
"What would my wife say? No time to chat tonight, Auntie." The sergeant glanced at the workman changing the sign, rubbed his chin and said, "We've got to stay on the prowl for Old Baslim's brat. You haven't seen him?" He looked again at the work going on above him and his eyes widened slightly.
"Would I sit here swapping gossip if I had?"
"Hmm . . ." He turned to his partner. "Roj, move along and check Ace's Place, and don't forget the washroom. I'll keep an eye on the street"
"Okay, Sarge."
The senior patrolman turned to the fortuneteller as his partner moved away. "It's a sad thing, Auntie. Who would have believed that old Baslim could have been spying against the Sargon and him a cripple?"
"Who indeed?" She rocked forward. "Is it true that he died of fright before they shortened him?"
"He had poison ready, knowing what was coming. But dead he was, before they pulled him out of his hole. The captain was furious."
"If he was dead already, why shorten him?"
"Come, come, Auntie, the law must be served
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