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stopped. He stood looking at us, twirling his mustache. “You boys want to make some money, right?”

      I said, “Sure, Professor, that’s what we’re here for.”

      “I know you lads are smart, and I can trust you to keep your mouths shut, right?”

      We both echoed, “Right.”

      He smiled, showing his large white teeth. “Fine, fine, you’re good lads, just the type I can trust. Now, here’s what I want you to do for me: you know where Mott Street is?” “Yep, Professor,” Maxie answered proudly. “Noodles knows this city like a book.”

      “Mott Street is in Chinatown,” I said. “That’s right.”

      He took a small round ball, resembling putty, out of a drawer. “Keep this in your pocket. Deliver it to the store at this address. Just leave it on the table, and walk out. That’s all you do. All right? Be careful with it. It’s valuable, and don’t play with it.”

      Maxie nodded. “Yep, Professor, we know what’s inside.” The Professor raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Junk,” I said.

      The Professor chuckled. He patted me on the back.

      “Smart boy, I’ll wait here for you, and I’ll have a dollar for each of you when you get back.”

      When we reached Chinatown, we found the store easily. The bell hanging over the door gave a faint tinkle as we walked in. In the dim light, we were barely able to see a large, fat Chinese seated at a table. He was staring at us. I was glad I had the knife in my pocket. It gave me a feeling of supreme confidence. I toyed with the button on the knife. In my imagination I dug it into his fat throat again and again; then I slashed him across the face.

      A funny thing happened: I actually saw his eyes bulge with fright. I swear he knew what I was thinking. I was sure of it. He knew that all I had to do was to take one step. With my magic push-button knife I would cut his face into chop suey[82]. He turned his white flabby face away in terror. I laughed and spit on the floor. Max put the ball on the table. We walked out.

      “What was you laughing at, Noodles?” Max asked.

      “At the Chinaman.”

      “Them Chinks don’t like to be laughed at, Noodles.” “That Chink I could handle, or anybody else,” I boasted. Maxie looked curiously at me. “He was a big Chink.”

      I shrugged. “So what?”

      Maxie laughed and patted me on the back. “Yep, I forgot, you got Pipy’s knife.” “My knife.”

      “Yep, your knife. It makes you feel good to have something like that handy, hey, Noodles?”

      I nodded. “Yeh, it makes you feel like you’re somebody.”

      “I’m going to get something to carry around myself,” Maxie said. He picked up a cigar butt from the sidewalk. He put it in the corner of his mouth. “Someday I’m going to get me a revolver. I’ll ask the Professor.”

      He handed me the butt. I smoked it awhile, then passed it back to him.

      The Professor held the door open for us. “Everything all right? You boys delivered it?” he asked anxiously.

      “Yep, everything’s all right, we delivered it.” Maxie spat on the floor. He puffed on his cigar stub. I looked coldly at the Professor.

      He laughed and gave us a dollar apiece. “You kids will go a long way.”

      “Yeh, Professor, we’re looking to make money. We need it,” I said. “You boys will make plenty, and I’ll show you how.”

      “You’re the Professor,” Maxie wisecracked.

      He chuckled, and rubbed his hands. “Yes, yes, I can teach you lads plenty of tricks, maybe, for our mutual benefit.”

      “Hey, Professor, can you get me and Noodles a couple of rods[83]?” “Rods?” The Professor was surprised.

      He looked at us intently.

      “What do you need them for?”

      “Well, we thought it would come in handy some time.”

      “For instance, when, and what for?”

      “You know, to make a heist.”

      “Who are you going to heist, Max?”

      Max hesitated for a moment. “Nah, we’re going to heist the Federal Reserve Bank,” Max said impressively.

      The Professor turned his back and put a handkerchief to his mouth. At first it sounded as if he was laughing. But we were mistaken. He really was coughing violently. He wiped his wet eyes.

      “I have a bad cough, this damp cellar you know. Now, about this Federal Reserve heist. You lads are a little too young yet. Wait a few years. After a little experience on small stuf,f like candy stores, drug stores, then gradually you work your way up to the Federal Reserve. All right, lads?” He was smiling broadly. “You can always come to me for help.”

      “Can you get us revolvers?” Max was insistent.

      “Yes, yes. I can get anything. Leave it to me, Max. When I think you boys are ready for them, you will have them. Is that satisfactory? One thing you have to learn, not to be too impetuous, my lad.”

      He patted Max on the back.

      “What’s the name of the book you have in your back pocket?” he said to me.

      I took it out and showed it to him. “From Rags to Riches. Isn’t it kid stuff for a boy your age?”

      I shrugged.

      “You like books?” he asked, smiling.

      “Yeh, I like to read.”

      “Why don’t you get good books, join the Public Library?” “The library is for sissies.”

      He laughed. “Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you belong to my library. Go on, help yourself, in there.”

      He gestured toward the toilet. “You got books in there?”

      “Yes, go on help yourself, that’s the best place for the library. That’s where one can really concentrate on what one is reading.”

      I walked into the toilet. Both walls from the floor to the ceiling were covered with shelves of books. They all had unfamiliar titles. The Education of Henry Adams, a book by a guy named Yeats[84], and others I never heard of.

      “Well, have you found something you would like?” the Professor called to me.

      I spied a title that made a little sense to me. Boswell’s Life of Johnson[85]. Yeh, I thought, this must be pretty good. All about Jack Johnson[86], the champ. I walked out with it. The Professor said, “What did you pick out?”

      I showed it to him. He looked doubtfully at me. “Do you think you will like it and understand it?”

      “Who you kiddin’?” I snorted.

      “It’s kind of deep stuff for a kid,” he said.

      “You don’t know Noodles, Professor, he’s a smart guy. The smartest guy on Delancey Street.”

      “All right, Noodles,” he said, “after you finish it I’d like to know what you think of it.”

      “Yeh, I’ll let you know,” I promised.

      Chapter

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