We got to a door on the left hand side just beyond the alley.
I thought he was going up-stairs to Jack Bridge’s place, but no, he made a dive down into a lager beer saloon in the basement, took me into a back room and then, unlocking a door, we landed in a little box of a place about four by five, where there was nothing but a stove, a desk and a couple of chairs.
He locked the door first of all—then he turned on me.
I tell you now if I wasn’t measuring that man it’s a caution!
“I wonder which of us two’s got the most muscle,” thinks I.
“Let’s see your money, Mr. Spalding!” says he, handing me a cigar and lighting one himself.
“Let’s see yours!” says I. “Gimme a light!”
“You’re a cool one,” says he. “D’yer ’spose I’m going to give up my green goods and take my chances of getting my pay?”
“But you’ve seen my money once.”
“Oh, all right. You’re suspicious. You think I ain’t straight. That’s what’s the matter with you, my boy.”