Before Dick Ferris could say a word or move, Macklin clapped his hand over the tall boy's mouth.
"Hush!" he muttered. "I'll fix it all right."
A square table stood in one corner of the room, and under it was a quantity of old bagging.
Macklin seized hold of Hal's body and dragged it toward the table.
Then he shoved the motionless form under the piece of furniture and covered it with the loose bagging.
The key to the door lay on the floor, and picking it up, Macklin inserted it in the lock and gave it a turn.
In a second the door was opened and a stout and harsh-looking woman appeared.
It was Tommy Macklin's wife.
She was a heavy drinker, but she was not a really bad woman at heart.
Had she been as unscrupulous as Macklin himself, the tough would never have pursued the course he did.