“There was a kind of partitioned off hallway inside, with another door in the partition.  We opened that, and there was a good-sized room, filled with men, smokin’ and standin’ around.  A high board fence was acrost one end of the room, and from behind it comes a jinglin’ of telephone bells and the sounds of talk.  The floor was covered with torn papers, the window blinds was shut, the gas was burnin’ blue, and, between it and the smoke, the smells was as various as them in a fish glue factory.  On the fence was a couple of blackboards with ‘Belmont’ and ‘Brighton’ and suchlike names in chalk wrote on ’em, and beneath that a whole mess in writin’ and figures like, ’Red Tail 4—­Wt—­108—­Jock Smith—­5—­1,’ ‘Sourcrout 5—­Wt—­99—­Jock Jones—­20—­5,’ and similar rubbish.  And the gang—­a mighty mixed lot—­was scribblin’ in little books and watchin’ each other as if they was afraid of havin’ their pockets picked; though, to look at ’em, you’d have guessed the biggest part had nothin’ in their pockets but holes.

“The six-foot checkerboard—­who, it turned out, answered to the hail of ’Mike’—­seemed to be right at home with the gang.  He called most of ’em by their first names and went sasshayin’ around, weltin’ ’em on the back and tellin’ ’em how he’d ‘put crimps in the bookies rolls t’other day,’ and a lot more stuff that they seemed to understand, but was hog Greek to me and Jonadab.  He’d forgot us altogether which was a mercy the way I looked at it, and I steered the Cap’n over into a corner and we come to anchor on a couple of rickety chairs.

“‘What—­why—­what kind of a place is this, Barzilla?’ whispers Jonadab, scared.

“‘Sh-h-h!’ says I.  ’Land knows.  Just set quiet and hang on to your watch.’

“‘But—­but I want to find Kelly,’ says he.

“‘I’d give somethin’ to find a back door,’ says I.  ’Ain’t this a collection of dock rats though!  If this is a part of your dream, Jonadab, I wish you’d turn over and wake up.  Oh land! here’s one murderer headin’ this way.  Keep your change in your fist and keep the fist shut.’

“A more’n average rusty peep, with a rubber collar on and no necktie, comes slinkin’ over to us.  He had a smile like a crack in a plate.

“‘Say, gents,’ he says, ’have you made your bets yet?  I’ve got a dead straight line on the handicap,’ says he, ’and I’ll put you next for a one spot.  It’s a sure t’ing at fifteen to three.  What do you say?’

“I didn’t say nuthin’; but that fool dream was rattlin’ round in Jonadab’s skull like a bean in a blowgun, and he sees a chance for a shot.

“‘See here, mister,’ he says.  ’Can you tell me where to locate Mr. Kelly?’

“‘Who—­Pete?’ says the feller.  ’Oh, he ain’t in just now.  But about that handicap.  I like the looks of youse and I’ll let youse in for a dollar.  Or, seein’ it’s you, we’ll say a half.  Only fifty cents.  I wouldn’t do better for my own old man,’ he says.