“You know him?” she asked sharply.

Apparently that phrase, “the man who smiles,” was enough to identify him.

“I’ve seen him.  I dunno what he is, I dunno what you are, lady, but I figure that you and Caroline Smith and everybody else in this house is under the thumb of the gent that smiles.”

Her eyes darkened with a shadow of alarm.  “Go on,” she said curtly.

“I’m not going on to guess about what you all are.  All I know is what I’m here trying to do.  I’m not working for myself.  I’m working for a partner.”

She started.  “That’s the second man, the one who stopped her on the street today?”

“You’re pretty well posted,” replied Ronicky.  “Yes, that’s the one.  He started after Caroline Smith, not even knowing her name—­with just a picture of her.  We found out that she lived in sight of the East River, and pretty soon we located her here.”

“And what are you hoping to do?”

“To find her and talk to her straight from the shoulder and tell her what a pile Bill has done to get to her—­and a lot of other things.”

“Can’t he find her and tell her those things for himself?”

“He can’t talk,” said Ronicky.  “Not that I’m a pile better, but I could talk better for a friend than he could talk for himself, I figure.  If things don’t go right then I’ll know that the trouble is with the gent with the smile.”

“And then?” asked the girl, very excited and grave.

“I’ll find him,” said Ronicky Doone.

“And—­”

“Lady,” he replied obliquely, “because I couldn’t use a gun on a girl ain’t no sign that I can’t use it on a gent!”

“I’ve one thing to tell you,” she said, breaking in swiftly on him.  “Do what you want—­take all the chances you care to—­but, if you value your life and the life of your friend, keep away from the man who smiles.”

“I’ll have a fighting chance, I guess,” said Ronicky quietly.”

“You’ll have no chance at all.  The moment he knows your hand is against him, I don’t care how brave or how clever you are, you’re doomed!”

She spoke with such a passion of conviction that she flushed, and a moment later she was shivering.  It might have been the draft from the window which made her gather the hazy-green mantle closer about her and glance over her shoulder; but a grim feeling came to Ronicky Doone that the reason why the girl trembled and her eyes grew wide, was that the mention of “the man who smiles” had brought the thought of him into the room like a breath of cold wind.

“Don’t you see,” she went on gently, “that I like you?  It’s the first and the last time that I’m going to see you, so I can talk.  I know you’re honest, and I know you’re brave.  Why, I can see your whole character in the way you’ve stayed by your friend; and, if there’s a possible way of helping you, I’ll do it.  But you must promise me first that you’ll never cross the man with the sneer, as you call him.”