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"Anything wrong?" he enquired, as they drew level.
"Not wid you dis time, bo!" answered one, blandly contemptuous, and
strode on up the stair, twirling his club in practised hand, his fellow
officer at his heels.
Thus rebuked, Mr. Ravenslee looked after them with quick-drawn brows
until, remembering his broken hat brim and shabby clothes, he smiled and
went upon his way. Reaching the dingy lower hall he beheld the solitary
gas-jet flare whose feeble light showed five lounging forms, rough
fellows who talked together in hoarse murmurs and with heads close
together.
He was passing by, when, in one of these deep-throated talkers, he
recognised the long limbs and wide, sloping shoulders of the Spider. Mr.
Ravenslee paused and nodded.
"Good evening!" said he, but this time kept his hands in his pockets.
The Spider eyed him somewhat askance, shifted his wad of chewing gum
from one cheek to the other, and spoke.
"'Lo!" said he.
"Do you know where Spike is?"
"S'pose I do--then what?" demanded the Spider with a truculent lurch of
his wide shoulders.


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