“Rodney,” said Steuben quietly, “I want to know about that five hundred dollars. It’s been a month since you promised me—”
Paget gripped the man’s arm.
“Listen, Walter,” he replied, “it’s coming shortly. Give me just another week—”
“I need it now.”
“But I have to pay my dues,” pleaded Paget, in a low tone. “I can’t be posted, Walter. Give me just one week—”
Steuben nodded reluctantly and walked away as another man passed. Paget wondered if he had been overheard.
He did not recognize the passer-by, as the man’s back was turned, but he watched the fellow until he had taken his place in a corner of the reading room, where he sat obscured behind an unfolded newspaper.
PAGET referred to the Morning Monitor. He reached the desired page, and an exclamation nearly came to his lips. He placed his finger upon a paragraph and read the words eagerly.
Suddenly he felt a chilling sensation. Steuben’s interruption came back to him, and Paget became suddenly suspicious. Without raising his head, he turned his eyes to the right.
The man in the corner was still behind his newspaper, but Paget had a strange, unaccountable intuition that sharp eyes were watching him. He suddenly gained the impression that there were holes in that unfolded newspaper — many small, unnoticeable holes through which he was being observed.