“I am not guilty!”
The murderer’s voice was low and husky.
“We will leave that for the court to decide,” said Burt.
Then he inserted his arm within that of his prisoner and led him from the place. That was Mike Quick’s last farewell to the dive over which he so long presided. At the same time that Mike was being led to prison another affair in which we are interested was taking place.
The scene was a café on Bleecker Street and the parties Pierre Jacquet and Mr. Richard Kidd.
The latter had moved his place of residence to that quarter. Only the day before Pierre had been discharged from the hospital as cured. The meeting of the pair was purely accidental.
Kidd was engaged eating breakfast when the man he had wronged entered. At sight of Dick the Frenchman gave a great start. Then he conjured up a pleasant smile.
Kidd grew ghastly pale as Jacquet approached him. He had no weapon and he cursed himself for leaving his room without arming himself, as was his custom. Pierre seated himself at the same table and opposite Dick.
“You do not seem to have much appetite, monsieur.”
Kidd glanced apprehensively at the other. Jacquet’s face still wore a smile.