Hooks Borglund extended his hand, and Carpenter grasped it limply. A sigh of relief came from the blackmailer.
“We’re not through,” assured Hooks. “We’re just ready to start, when the trouble blows over. Take the rap, and leave the rest to us. We’ve got dough.”
“Thanks, Hooks.”
Borglund arose and watched Carpenter closely. He saw clearly that his mission here had been accomplished; that it would do no good to remain longer. Turning, he went from the house.
The projecting shadow disappeared from the room where Herbert Carpenter sat with bowed head. It flitted into the darkness, and reappeared again, a gliding shape that took up the sinuous, furtive trail of Hooks Borglund.
That trail led to Big Tom’s. The wrecked gambling den was the one spot in Seaview City where the police had no interest now. The Club Catalina was still doing business.
Hooks Borglund entered and went up the stairs. The trailing shape disappeared. In the security of the gambling room, Hooks encountered Big Tom Bagshawe, seated alone. The two men talked for a few minutes. Then Shifter Reeves appeared from below. One by one, the trio entered the office.
Three men had come in. Four were present. The growl of Wheels Bryant sounded in the darkened room.
“Well, Hooks?”
‘Lined him up,” said Borglund. “He’ll take the rap.”