It was an old signal that had been used in Sing Sing, during the winter months. It had served as a warning, and as a tip that some one wanted to begin secret communication.
It had been a favorite artifice employed by Nipper Brady. The little man had invented it while working beside a noisy radiator in the shop. Cliff lifted his hand from the knob of the door and looked quickly into the darkened room.
He had acted just in time to see a man enter the room through the half-open outer door.
Cliff made no movement. His brain was working quickly. His right arm was out of view — in fact, he doubted if he was more than scarcely visible to the intruder. Cautiously, he drew his automatic from his pocket.
He realized instantly what had happened. Some one in Ernie’s gang had suspected that there was an eavesdropper. A gunman had been sent to investigate.
A feeling of grimness gripped Cliff Marsland. The man who had entered was somewhere in the room — probably on the other side of the center table. Cliff’s mind went back to a night in France — many years before when just such a figure had come creeping toward him as he lay but a few yards from the German trenches.
He remembered how his hands had gripped the German’s throat — how silent death had taken its victim in the darkness.
The situation was the same tonight, but all was at closer range. Could he succeed as he had done before?
It was his life or the other man’s, that was all! If the investigator did not return; if no sound came from this darkened room, a few precious minutes might be gained while the dining gangsters waited. It was the only hope!
Slowly, Cliff crouched to the floor. He moved toward the table. He left his gun on the floor, where he could reach it, beside the leg of a chair. He was breathing noiselessly, between tense lips, as he crept slowly forward to take his foe unawares!