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Later, in the alley, Mugsy saw the gang waiting for him. Through the scattered patches of sunlight, he saw them leaning against the brick walls or draped in doorways. As he approached, not one so much as offered a greeting or changed his position. They expected him to say the first word. It was the rule. He was the boss. Hands again thrust deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, and floppy cap over his eyes, Mugsy shuffled through without a sign of recognition.

"Hey Mugsy," ventured the biggest kid, "wait a minute. We gotta tell ya. We was hookin' spuds and a cop smacked Frankie on the bean. Honest, he's got a lump that big! It's sumpin' awful!"

Mugsy turned. On his face was an expression the gang had never seen before.

"Go wan," he muttered. "You kids make me sick. Think you're tough . . ."