The barkeeper put down the beer he had just drawn, wiped his hand hurriedly, and with sudden enthusiasm thrust it across the bar.

“Glad to know youse, cull!” he exclaimed.  “Wot’s de lay?”

Jimmie Dale smiled.

“Nix!” said Jimmie Dale.  “I just blew in from Chicago.  Used to know de Wowzer dere.  He said dis place was on de level, an’ I could always find him here, dat’s all.”

“Sure, youse can!” returned the barkeeper heartily.  “Only he ain’t here now.  He beat it about fifteen minutes ago, him an’ Dago Jim.  I guess youse’ll find him at Chang’s, I heard him an’ Dago say dey was goin’ dere.  Know de place?”

Jimmie Dale shook his head.

“I ain’t much wise to New York,” he explained.

“Aw, dat’s easy,” whispered the barkeeper.  “Go down to Chatham Square, an’ den any guy’ll show youse Chang Foo’s.”  He winked confidentially.  “I guess youse won’t bump yer head none gettin’ around inside.”

Jimmie Dale nodded, grinned back, emptied his glass, and dug for a coin.

“Forget it!” observed the barkeeper cordially.  “Dis is on me.  Any friend of de Wowzer’s gets de glad hand here any time.”

“T’anks!” said Jimmie Dale gratefully, as he turned away.  “So long, then—­see youse later.”

Chang Foo’s!  Jimmie Dale’s face set even a little harder than it had before, as he swung on again down the Bowery.  Yes; he knew Chang Foo’s—­too well.  Underground Chinatown—­where a man’s life was worth the price of an opium pill—­or less!  Mechanically his hand slipped into his pocket and closed over the automatic that nestled there.  Once in—­where he had to go—­and the chances were even, just even, that was all, that he would ever get out.  Again he was tempted to return to the Sanctuary and make the attempt as Larry the Bat.  Larry the Bat was well enough known to enter Chang Foo’s unquestioned, and—­but again he shook his head and went on.  There was not time.  The Wowzer and his pal—­it was Dago Jim it seemed—­had evidently been drinking and loitering their way downtown from the theatre, and he had gained that much on them; but by now they would be smugly tucked away somewhere in that maze of dens below the ground, and at that moment probably were gloating over the biggest night’s haul they had ever made in their lives!

And if they were!  What then?  Once they knew the contents of that letter—­what then?  Buy them off for a larger amount than the many thousands offered for the capture of the Gray Seal?  Jimmie Dale gritted his teeth.  That meant blackmail from them all his life, an intolerable existence, impossible, a hell on earth—­the slave, at the beck and call of two of the worst criminals in New York!  The moisture oozed again to Jimmie Dale’s forehead.  God, if he could get that letter before it was opened—­before they knew!  If he could only get the chance to fight for it—­against any odds!  Life!  Life was a pitiful consideration against the alternative that faced him now!