“That’s not the place,” said Will, decisively; “might as well make a fence-shop of the custom-house.”
“There are other ways in,” said Joe, leading round the corner.
Will now saw that the house extended a considerable distance back, with a yard fence along this second street. A gate in this fence stood very slightly ajar.
“That’s the back doorway,” said Joe.
“I want a squint at the landlord now,” said Will, pushing into the bar-room, through the throng of loungers.
Behind the bar was a flashily-dressed young fellow with as much evil in his face as it would conveniently hold, busily dealing out liquor to his customers.
As Will stood, looking sharply through the throng of customers, a door behind the bar opened, and a man in his shirt-sleeves entered. A glance told him that this was the person who had been described to him, and satisfied him that it was the man he wanted.
He was small but stoutly built, swarthy almost as an Indian, with straight black hair, and eyes of deep blackness.
Will slipped quietly out of the room.
“That’s Black-eyed Joe,” he said, on meeting his friend outside.