Nevertheless, Spotter never sought crime. He waited for opportunities.
A man entered the door. Spotter blinked in sudden recognition.
The fellow came across the floor, noted Spotter, and made a slight beckoning motion with his thumb. Then he entered the inner room of the den. Spotter followed.
* * *
The new arrival was a tall man, with sallow face, and beaklike nose. He was well dressed, and his moppy red hair made its presence known beneath the gray hat which he wore. The stranger’s features were impassive.
He and Spotter were alone in the room.
“Reds Mackin!” exclaimed Spotter, softly, as he looked at the man across the table. “I thought you was in Chi.”
The other man smiled, almost imperceptibly.
“I just came back,” he replied.
“Ain’t things goin’ right?” questioned Spotter.