“That makes it easy. No slip-ups. Briggs is my name, just like yours is Bob. Bob—”
“Galvin,” interrupted the young man at the desk. “Remember that part of it. No slip-ups there. Understand?”
BRIGGS nodded. He looked around the room, the grin still on his face.
“We’ve both done our bit in this place,” he said, “eh, Bob? I started it when I did away with Barker. Tried to double-cross us, the rat. Then you fixed this guy, Hodgson, when he tried to interfere. You acted kind of quick when you did that—”
“No quicker than you,” interposed Bob. “I guess there was only one way to handle Barker. But it would have been good if you had made him talk before he went out. He may have known some things we don’t know.”
“Couldn’t help it,” said Briggs sullenly. “He could scrap, that guy. So I didn’t give him a chance. Say” — he turned the conversation suddenly — “when’s the girl coming back?”
“To-morrow,” was the quick answer. “That’s why we’ve got to be ready to play the game. Remember, you call me ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Galvin’. Got that straight?”
“Sure enough. And she’s Miss Betty. But, listen” — Briggs spoke seriously — “what do you think, now, about that time she came in here. Do you really think she saw—”
“The Chief has figured it out,” interrupted Bob. “She may have been imagining things. If that’s the case, it doesn’t mean anything.
“But if she really saw some one, it’s probable that it was — well, you know who.”