None of the card players were gambling; at least there was no money in view. So far as Yates was concerned, that constituted legitimate play. While the police chief still gazed at the scene, some one approached him, and he heard the welcoming voice of Big Tom Bagshawe.
“Good evening, chief,” said Bagshawe in a friendly tone. “Glad to see you. How do you like my place? If the Club Catalina keeps on increasing business, we’ll have the overflow up here.”
“It looks very good,” observed Yates gruffly. “Plenty of space up here.”
“Let me show you the rest of it,” suggested Big Tom. He led Yates into the adjoining room. Here were excellent furnishings — bulky tables, many chairs, three pianos against the wall. Big Tom continued the circuit, through the third room, and into the fourth. Here he stopped and pointed to a door in the inner wall.
“My office,” he remarked. “Come in and have a cigar.”
The room proved to be a windowless affair. It was set in the exact center of the large square floor, using a portion of each of the four rooms which surrounded it. Big Tom sat at a heavy, flat-topped desk in the middle of the room. He brought out a box of imported perfectos. Chief Yates laid aside the remains of the cigar which he had received from Mayor Cruikshank, and took one of Big Tom’s smokes.
“Nice little office, eh?” inquired Big Tom.
“Very nice,” answered Yates. “Nice lot of rooms up here, too. Too nice for the overflow of a night club, unless—”
Big Tom smiled.
“Say it, chief,” he suggested.