I was about to apologize for having disturbed him in the middle of the night, then decided it would be better to play it tough. Big John had said I had “manners.” A certain amount of manners would be okay. But guys just didn’t come real polite in the heavy rackets and courtesy could be overdone.

“The dame,” I said. “She got sick. Wanted some coffee.”

He seemed to think it over for a long time. Finally he said, “Cups in the top cupboard—over the sink.”

I went over there, opened a drawer and found a row of pottery cups hanging from hooks under one of the shelves. I lifted one down and closed the door, went to the stove and checked on the coffee. It had begun to bubble slowly.

“I saw coffee in the pot,” I said. “I hope you got more.” He dipped his grizzled head once.

“We got more,” he said.

(cf. Dewey, Thomas B.. Run, Brother, Run!)