A rap at the door cut him short.
“Who’s that?” he whispered.
Connor tiptoed to the locked door.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
A familiar voice reassured him, and he opened the door and held a conversation in a low voice with somebody outside.
“There’s a man who wants to see me,” he said in explanation. “Lock the door after I leave, Bat,” and he went out quickly.
Not a word was spoken, but each after his own fashion of reasoning drew some conclusion from Connor’s hasty departure.
“A full meetin’,” croaked a voice from the back of the room. “We’re all asked here by Connor. Is it a plant?”
That was Bat’s thought too.
“No,” he said; “there’s nothin’ against us. Why, Angel let us off only last week because there wasn’t evidence, an’ Connor’s straight.”