“Yes,” supplemented the Hawk. “As far as you are concerned, you are clear and out of this now. Stay out of it, and say nothing—that's the best thing you can do.”
“Well, that suits me,” said Calhoun with a wry smile, “if Mr. Kirschell——”
“Exactly! I see!” approved the Hawk. “It does you credit. But Mr. Kirschell and I are quite capable of settling with these two; and you can thank Mr. Kirschell further to-morrow if you like—when I'm not here! Now—if you please!”
Calhoun turned, and walked to the door. His footsteps echoed back from the general office. Then the corridor door closed behind him.
The Hawk addressed the two masked men.
“Last night,” remarked the Hawk gently, “it was the Butcher, and to-night it is—pardon me”—he was close in front of the two now, and, with a jerk, snatched the masks from their faces—“Whitie Jim, and the Bantam! Well, I might have known from the Butcher! You're all out of the same kind of cocoons! The poor old simp at the head of your gang is sure stuck with a moth-eaten lot! He's sure collected a bunch of left-overs! Why, say, back there in New York, where a real crook couldn't keep the grin off his face every time he met you, even the police had you passed up as harmless cripples!”
“You go to blazes!” growled the Bantam, with an oath. “You'll sing through the other side of your mouth for this yet!”
“You are not nice to me, Bantam,” said the Hawk, in a pained voice. “You don't appreciate what I'm doing for you. It was a piker game you tried to hand Calhoun; but, even at that, I wouldn't have queered it if it would have helped you work out a few more little deals, so that I could skim the cream off them. But it wouldn't! I don't see what you gain by interfering with the telegraph lines, but I'll let you in on something. I've been keeping an eye on MacVightie because MacVightie's been keeping an eye on me, and I overheard him talking to the superintendent to-night. MacVightie's got an idea that Calhoun's fooling with the wires now. See where you would have been? If Calhoun had ever got started on the real thing, some of you would have been nipped—and, say, there's nothing like that going to happen if I can help it! You and your crowd are too valuable to me to take any chances of your getting in wrong anywhere. I'm not wringing the neck of the goose that lays my golden eggs! Tell that to the guy that's supposed to have the brains of your outfit, will you? And you might add that I don't want any thanks. I'm getting well paid.”
“You'll get paid, curse you!” The Bantam's voice was hoarse with fury. “You butted in once too often last night. The Butcher warned you. There ain't any more warnings. You've got the drop on us here to-night, but——”
“It's getting late,” said the Hawk wearily. “And I'm sure Mr. Kirschell agrees with me that it is about time to produce that cash box—do you not, Mr. Kirschell?”