I have bin watching A sins you wised me up about him… I got into his plac whil he was out one nite… This drawing showes the lay… In the desk he kips the dop on the gys he is dubbel-crosing… Solly Bricker… Centter 1592… Keeping mum becuz of what you rote… Phony key behynd haul raddiater… Hawk.
The final word formed the signature. Ferret digested every statement in the letter. He paid particular attention to the diagram, which bore such marks as "big room," "back door," "raddiater," and "desk." Then Ferret tore the letter into tiny fragments. He strolled on through the dark, and tossed the pieces to the breeze. They fluttered away in all directions.
Sneaking craftily, Ferret reached the front door of an old apartment building. The inner lobby was dimly lighted. He entered and turned toward a flight of stairs at the left, ascending to the third floor. At the end of the hall were two doors — one at the corner on the left; the other on the right, but a dozen feet from the corner.
There was a light beaming through the glass transom of the doorway on the left. Ferret grinned. He stared suspiciously at the door on the right. The transom above it was black. That was sufficient. Ferret looked back along the gloomy hall. Seeing no one, he advanced to a radiator at the extreme end of the hall. He stooped and fished beneath the radiator. A key glimmered in his hand. Ferret was looking intently at the key. He did not observe the white face pressed against the transom at the right. Someone was watching him, but Ferret did not know it.
Silently, the stoop-shouldered man unlocked the door at the left and entered.
He was very cautious now — more stealthy than he had been in the hall, where his footfalls left a slight sound. He was peering into a lighted room, from a small entry. In the far corner he observed a stout, bald-headed man seated at a desk.
Ferret's lips curled in hatred as he noiselessly closed the door behind him. From his hip pocket he drew a short, stub-nosed revolver.
He crept forward like a preying cat until he was no more than six feet away from the bald-headed man. Then a sneering chuckle came from Ferret.
The stout man whirled quickly in his swivel chair. His red, bloated face became a livid purple. His body trembled. His bulging, startled eyes caught the upward nudge of Ferret's revolver. Instinctively, he raised his arms.
Ferret, cold-eyed, harsh-faced, and unmasked, stared directly at his quarry. The venomous hate in his eyes did not seem to impress Daniel Antrim.