The old man stepped back and scanned the place where the door had been. The smile was still on his face as he raised his hands to his forehead and bowed. The action brought another grin to the face of the silent Pedro.
It was like a little ceremony on the part of Isaac Coffran, as though he had bidden farewell to some one whom he did not expect to see again.
CHAPTER XI. CRONIN SEES A SHADOW
Steve Cronin looked over his shoulder as he walked through the lobby of the old hotel in Harrisburg. There was no one in view except the clerk behind the desk, yet the gangster felt uneasy.
"Must be getting the willies," he observed to himself as he walked up the steps, ignoring the antiquated elevator. "Funny I never felt this way before."
He paused at the door of his room. He looked back along the corridor. It was very dim back there — dim and shadowy. He stared for half a minute as though he expected some movement in the darkness. Then he opened his door, slipped his hand cautiously through the narrow space, and turned the switch.
He entered the room quickly, looked about him, and closed the door. The brightness was somewhat reassuring, yet Cronin was not content until he had peered beneath the bed and in the closet. Then he lowered the window shade.
The gangster sat in the chair which Harry Vincent had occupied on the previous night.
"Funny," he murmured. "First time I ever felt nervous like this. Always laughed at guys that acted like they were scared. But to-night — whew!"
He looked toward the closed door.