Where money was, Bagshawe was also. His presence in Seaview City denoted that he expected to accumulate wealth from this prosperous resort.
The other man was of a totally different type from Big Tom Bagshawe. Short, pasty-faced and possessed of shifty, cunning eyes, this individual had none of the friendly expression which characterized his big companion.
He was a fiend of the underworld, whose operations were so cunningly conducted that police had never managed to place their hands upon him. “Shifter” Reeves he was called, and his connection with questionable enterprises had always been a matter of speculation on the part of investigators.
These men were conversing in low tones. Both of them were cautious in their statements. Evidently this meeting had served as their first introduction. Big Tom was eyeing Shifter with a curious expression, and the pasty-faced man constantly turned quick glances in the direction of his companion.
Three soft raps sounded on the door. Shifter Reeves darted another sharp glance toward Bagshawe. With a slow, indifferent attitude, Big Tom arose to answer the knock.
“Three raps,” he said. “That’s Number 3.”
When Big Tom opened the door, a stocky man entered. He was well dressed, and carried himself with a challenging air. He closed the door behind him, and studied both of his companions. Satisfied they were the men he expected, he introduced himself.
“I guess you’ve heard of me?” he announced. “They call me Hooks Borglund. You’re Big Tom Bagshawe” — he glanced at the gambler as he spoke — “and I suppose you’re Shifter Reeves. Where’s the other fellow?”
“He’ll be here next,” answered Big Tom. “He’s Number 4. After him comes—”
“Hooks” Borglund nodded as though he understood. He sat down and lighted a cigarette nervously. All conversation ended; the three men were waiting.