“Oh, you’re all right,” Bully said carelessly. “Lock the door and put the key in your pocket—don’t leave it in the door, or it can be turned from outside. Then shove that wallet under your pillow, and you’re safer’n if you was locked up in a vault. It’s a cinch, old man!”
“Well, I’ll take your advice,” said Hostetter, with a relieved air. “Much obliged to you, I’m sure!”
Saying good night, he vanished. Bully could hear him lock his door and withdraw the key.
Carson sat smoking until the room was so full of smoke that he was forced to open the window, much against his will. A thousand dollars in cash! The words seemed to burn into his brain. He walked up and down, trying to fling off the black thoughts that filled him, but finally he paused and brought down one fist on the table.
“I’ll do it!”
At that instant there came a soft knock at the door. Bully started, and swung around. The door opened.
“Oh, it’s you!” he cried, and laughed a little. “Come in, Bob. I was waiting for you.”
CHAPTER XXX.
CRIMINAL WORK.
Bob Randall slipped quickly inside, shut the door swiftly behind him, and stood as if listening.