For the first time within his memory, Speedy did not sleep well that night. Always previously, job or no job, in trouble or out of it, he had been able to slip into blissful unconsciousness as soon as his head hit the pillow and remain thus until the battered alarm clock on the chair beside his iron bed shrilled the waking hour. But during the night following the Battle of De Lacey Street he lay wide awake, his brain packed with confused thoughts and his body tossing, for hours.
Speedy had a shrewd idea that he was not through with Carter and his gangster confederates, that, in fact, his troubles were but fairly under way. He could not believe that an unscrupulous fellow like Carter and born battlers like the Callahanites would be deterred by the temporary setback they had suffered that day. Carter evidently had a deep and determined purpose behind his vicarious efforts to prevent the Crosstown Railways' veteran rolling stock from making its daily journey.
It was Speedy's guess that no more attempts would be made to render the old horse car hors de combat by strong-arm tactics. In fact Johnny Burke, the policeman, had promised to "buzz the lieutenant to send down a couple of other strong lads, like meself, hungry for trouble so that the next times them bozos come snoopin' around we can give
