“S’pose we can’t?”
“Then we must trust our luck, and I’ve got a hunch we shall get Spike away somehow before Mr. Flowers dopes him or makes him drunk; anyway we’ll try. The dressing rooms are behind the annex, aren’t they?”
“Know the place, do ye?”
“I’ve looked it over. We can get in behind the annex, can’t we?”
“In?” repeated the Spider, smiling grimly. “Oh, we’ll get in all right; what gets my goat is how we’re goin’ t’ get out again. You sure are a bird for takin’ chances, Geoff.”
“Life is made up of chances, Spider, and there are two kinds of men—those who take them joyfully and those who don’t.”
“Well, say, you can scratch me on the joyful business. I’m th’ guy as only takes chances he’s paid t’ take.”
“How much are you getting on this job, Spider?”
“Oh—well—I mean—say, what’s th’ time, bo?”
“Five minutes after eight—why?”
“I guess d’ Kid’s in th’ ring, then. There’s a full card t’night, an’ he’s scheduled for eight sharp, so I reckon he’s fightin’ now—an’ good luck to him!” By this time they had reached that dark and quiet neighbourhood where stood O’Rourke’s saloon. But to-night the big annex glared with light, and the air about it was full of a dull, hoarse, insistent clamour that swelled all at once to a chorus of discordant shrieks and frenzied cries.
“Ah!” quoth the Spider sagely, “hark to ‘em howl! That means some guy’s gettin’ his, alright. Listen to ‘em; they love t’ get blood for their entrance money, an’ they’re sure gettin’ it. Some one’s bein’ knocked out—come on!”
It was a dark night, for there was no moon and the stars were hidden; thus, as Ravenslee followed the Spider, he found himself stumbling over the uneven ground of a vacant lot, a lonely place beyond which lay the distant river. At last they reached various outbuildings, looming up ugly and ungainly in the dimness.
“Say, bo,” said the Spider, stopping suddenly at a small and narrow door, “you’d best wait here and lemme go first.”
“No, we’ll go together.”
“Right-o, only be ready to make a quick get-away!”
So saying, the Spider opened the door and, closely followed by Ravenslee, stepped into a dimly-lit passage thick with the blue vapour of cigars and cigarettes. It was a long, narrow corridor, bare and uncarpeted, seeming to run the length of the building; on one hand was a row of dingy windows and on the other were several doors, from behind which came the sound of many voices that talked and sang and swore together, a very babel.
At the end of this passage was yet another door which gave upon a small room that contained a rickety sofa, a chair, and a battered desk; a kerosene lamp suspended against the wall burned dimly, and it was into this chamber that the Spider ushered Ravenslee somewhat hastily; the Spider’s eyes were very bright, and he chewed rather more fiercely than usual.
“Bo,” said he, “this place ain’t exactly a bed o’ roses for a strange guy like you. Y’ see, this is Bud’s own stampin’-ground, an’ the whole bunch is here t’night, and most of ‘em are heeled. Soapy an’ Bud always tote guns, I know. So I guess you’d better mark time here a bit while I chase around an’ locate th’ Kid. If any one asks what you’re doin’ around here, say as you come in with me. But, bo”—and here the Spider laid an impressive hand on Ravenslee’s arm—”if you should happen t’ see Bud, well, don’t stop to look twice but beat it—let it be th’ door or winder for yours—only—beat it!”
“Oh, why?”
“Well, I know Bud’s got it in fer you; I heard him say—oh, well, if his gun should go off—accidental-like, this place ain’t exactly Broadway or Fifth Av’noo, bo—see?”
“I see!” nodded Ravenslee.
“Hold on!” said Spider, and crossing to the window, he unlatched it stealthily and lifted it high, “if I ain’t back inside of ten minutes, bo, nip out through here and hike; wait for me at the lamp-post across the lot over there—it’ll be safer. D’ye get me?”
“I do!” nodded Ravenslee.
“I guess you’d be less of a fool if you was to get out now an’ wait—outside!” Spider suggested.
Ravenslee shook his head.
“I’ll wait here,” said he, “there are times when I can be as big a fool as the next, Spider, and this is one of them.”
“That’s so!” nodded the Spider, and chewing viciously, he turned and was gone, to be hailed a few minutes later in uproarious greeting by many discordant voices which died slowly to a droning hum above which came sounds more distant, shouts and cheers from the auditorium.
Left alone, Ravenslee looked about him, and then espied a newspaper that lay upon the desk. Idly taking it up, his gaze was attracted by these words, printed in large black letters:
NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL RUN TO EARTH JACOB HEINE THE GUN-MAN ARRESTED IN JERSEY CITY
Below in small type he read this:
Jacob Heine, believed to be the perpetrator of several mysterious shooting affrays, and member of a dangerous West Side gang, was arrested to-day.
The light being dim, Ravenslee drew closer to the lamp, and standing thus against the light, his face was in shadow—also his long figure was silhouetted upon the opposite wall, plain to be seen by any one opening the door. Suddenly, as he stood with head bent above the paper, this door opened suddenly, and M’Ginnis entered; he also held a paper, and now he spoke without troubling to lift his scowling gaze from the printed column he was
