Pino nudged White-Eye and indicated the little pile of gold that was stacked before a player at the faro table.  White-Eye shook his head and stepped casually back.  Pino sauntered over to him.

“Chanct for a clean-up?” whispered Pino.

“No show.  The lookout’s a gun.  I know him.  So is that guy at the wheel.  Pony’s pardner packs a gat; and that guy standin’ over by the wall, smoking is drawin’ down reg’lar pay for jest standin’ there, every night.  ’Sides, they ain’t enough stuff in sight to take a chanct for.  We ain’t organized for this kind of a deal.”

“Then what’s the use of hangin’ around?”

“‘Cause they was somethin’ on that piece of paper you picked up out there that Pony didn’t want us to see—­and I aim to find out what it was.”

“The number of some dame, most like,” said Pino, grinning.

“Did you hear him say The Spider went back to his hotel?  Well, Pony is double-crossin’ somebody.  Jest stick around and keep your eye on the door.”

Meanwhile The Spider had arrived at the address given him—­an empty basement store in the south end of town.  The place was dark and evidently abandoned.  Back of the store was a room in which were two cheap iron beds, a washstand, and two chairs.  The rear door of this room opened on an alley, and it was through this door that White-Eye and his companions entered and left the premises, which they had rented at a low rate from the lessee of the place who now ran a grocery on the street level, near the corner.

The Spider had no means of knowing of the back room and thought that Baxter had sent him to a chance number to get rid of him; or that the latter would possibly suggest that White-Eye must have left the neighborhood.

“Is there a back stairs to Pony’s place?” queried The Spider as he stood by the cab.

“No.  But there’s a fire-escape in the alley back of the block.  The last time they raided Pony the bulls got six gents comin’ down the iron ladder.”

“Just drive round that way.”  The Spider stepped into the cab.

“You ain’t a Government man, are you?” queried cabby.

“No.  I play a lone hand,” said The Spider.

CHAPTER XXXVII

“CLOSE THE CASES”

Pony Baxter’s place, located near the middle of what is commonly termed a “business block,” embraced the space once occupied by a number of small offices, one of which he had retained as a sort of reception-room, near the head of the stairway.  That he might have a spacious room for his business, the partitions of the former offices had been removed, with the exception of those enclosing his office, and a room at the extreme end of the building which opened on the hall, near the end window, just over the fire-escape.  This room was expensively fitted up as a lavatory, with marble panels, basins, and tiling.  A uniformed negro with the inevitable whisk-broom was always in attendance, quite as keen at “getting the dust” as was his employer.  The door to this room was fitted with a spring lock which allowed it to be opened only from the inside, except with a pass-key.