"Let him alone!"
They both swung around. Facing them, standing directly in front of the circle was a third man. Bob looked at the newcomer, looked back at Joe, blinked his eyes and tried to focus them. The two looked a good bit alike, he thought, enough alike to be brothers. Or maybe he was seeing double. Bad stuff, gin. Should 'ave switched to rum a long time ago. Good stuff, rum. You could drink it, or take a bath in it. No, that was gin―he meant Joe.
How silly! Joe was the one with the black eye. He wondered why he had ever been confused.
Then who was this other lug? Couldn't a couple of friends have a quiet drink together without people butting in?
"Who are you?" he said with quiet dignity.
The newcomer turned his head, then looked at Joe. "He knows me," he said meaningly.
Joe looked him over slowly. "Yes," he said, "yes, I suppose I do. But what the deuce are you here for? And why are you trying to bust up the plan?"
"No time for long-winded explanations. I know more about it than you do-you'll concede that-and my judgment is bound to be better than yours. He doesn't go through the Gate."
"I don't concede anything of the sort―"
The telephone rang.