The “Palace” had a bar-room in the front of the house and there were many customers crowded at it.
“We’d better go back to the other hotel, bad as it is,” suggested the judge. “There are drunken men in there and it is a wicked place.”
I put up my hand and pushed Kingsley back from the window into the gloom.
“When one has business with wicked men those men must be followed to a wicked place, sir. I found fault with the other hotel on purpose. I didn’t intend to stay there after I knew that a certain man thought he had located me for the night. It’s a wise plan to keep wicked men guessing. Stay back here a moment!”
I stepped along and stared in at the window, hiding my face with my forearm.
I saw Dragg at the bar, and Dragg had a man by the arm and was whispering in his ear. Dragg’s face expressed huge pleasure. He slapped the man on the back and bought drinks. After they had tossed off the liquor, Dragg resumed his business at the man’s ear.
This man stood out in that slouchy group at the bar as a peacock would stand out among pullets in a hen-yard. He was distinctly a loud noise in the matter of wardrobe. He would have made a lurid smear even among the high dressers who top the crests of the Broadway crowds between Forty-second Street and Greeley’s statue. He was of that sort of men who are paunchy and seem to be glad of it, because the extra beam affords them opportunity to display variegated waistcoats to better advantage. I realized that I was looking on “Peacock” Pratt.
After a few moments I tiptoed back to Kingsley, and, without speaking, propelled him to a spot where he could get a view of the men at the bar.
“Do you recognize anybody there, sir?”
“There he is—the man who brought the brick—one of the infernal robbers!” stuttered Kingsley. He was fairly beside himself with sudden excitement. His eyes had fallen first on the most conspicuous figure in the room. “He has my money. I want it. I’ll—”