“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 scanning: 

“That you, Lefty?  Here’s a hell of a mix-up—­that dog-gone fool Heine’s got himself pinched—­and in Jersey City too!  I told him t’ stay around here till things was quiet!  It’s goin’ t’ be a hell of a job t’ fix things for him over there—­’t ain’t like N’ York.  But we got t’ fix things for him or chance him squealing on th’ rest of us, but what beats me is—­”

M’Ginnis’s teeth clicked together, and the paper tore suddenly between his hands as, glancing up at last, he beheld two keen, grey eyes that watched him and a mouth, grim and close-lipped, that curled in the smile Spider didn’t like.

For a long, tense moment they stood motionless, eye to eye, then, reaching behind him, M’Ginnis locked the door, and drawing out the key, thrust it into his pocket.

“So—­I got ye at last—­have I?” said he slowly.