Sneaks stopped in a dark, narrow street. Cliff waited out of sight, behind a stack of barrels. He saw the little gangster make a motion beside a door. Then Sneaks disappeared.
Cliff advanced cautiously. He came to an open door, with a flight of steps ahead. He noted that the door was cleverly built so as to seem almost part of the wall.
Cliff hesitated. Should he leave temporary and call Burbank? He decided to go in. It was well that he did so, for unbeknown to him, the ends of the little street were already watched by Jake Dermott’s sentinels, ready to cut off his retreat!
CLIFF ascended the steps, automatic in his hand. He came to a hallway on the second floor. He stood there, in semidarkness. The only light came from a window at the end of the hall.
Cliff noted that he stood between two objects that looked like doors. A quick inspection proved that they were hinged bookcases. Cliff stepped forward in the dim light. He started quickly as he heard a low whisper.
“Cliff!”
His own name!
“Yes!” he whispered tensely.
“This is Harry — Harry Vincent.”
“Good. Is this Loy Rook’s?”