Any one could enter. Any one could be served. But only the toughest characters came in. Red Mike spotted strangers instantly. As long as they sat quietly and drank what they received they were welcome.
But no one was allowed to take a bottle from his place.
* * *
Like every hardened man of that district, Red Mike was willing to take a chance for the proper price.
Hence, on rare occasions, he allowed a fight to start in the Black Ship — but always under the most careful conditions.
He was expecting trouble to-night. A phone call had come from the proper person. In response, Red Mike had served free drinks to all his patrons. This was a remarkable action — one which was seldom performed in the Black Ship.
Some of the men had received the unexpected benefit with looks of surprise. Others — these were the ones whom Red Mike noticed particularly — had grinned in anticipation. Their toughened faces had shown sudden interest.
One by one they had risen from their tables and had gone through a door into a small inner room — a stone-walled apartment with an iron-plated door. It was seldom that Red Mike allowed any of his patrons to enter that room. It was usually kept for storage purposes.
Pedro the Mexican had entered before the last man had gone through the heavy door. He finished his drink leisurely. While he still sat at his table, the outer door of the Black Ship swung open and a man walked through the entrance.
The newcomer was tall and wiry. He wore khaki pants that were too large for him. An old sweater covered his body. A ragged cap was pulled down over his eyes. Beneath the visor was a face that revealed the typical gangster — a cruel, toughened face.