"Dockbridge! Hi, there, Dockbridge!"
The door was kicked open, and the lank figure of one of his associates stood before him. His visitor grinned, and removed his pipe.
"Bob'll be up in a minute. Come along to 'Coney.'"
"Don't feel kittenish enough," answered Dockbridge.
"Oh, come on! It'll do you good."
The sound of rapid steps flew up the stairs, and Bob burst into the room, almost upsetting the first arrival.
"What are you doing up here in this smelly place?" he inquired. "Got a cigarette?"
Dockbridge threw him a package without altering his position.
At this moment the heavily built figure of the chief of staff entered.