"Being here," said he, "I may as well go in and visit the halt and the lame. I wonder how much damage I did those two parties. Maybe I'll find them in their beds."
He entered the office. Behind the desk was the thick-necked young man with the low, stand-up collar.
"Hello," saluted Scanlon. "Where's the boss?"
"Not feeling right," replied the thick-necked one. "Got a cold, I guess. Settled in his throat."
Bat turned away with a grin hidden behind one hand. In the lounging room of the place he looked about for Big Slim; not seeing him, he ascended the stairs and knocked upon a door on the third floor.
"Come in," said the voice of the lank burglar.
Bat pushed open the door, and found the man standing in the middle of the floor, pulling on his coat.
"Just run up to see if I couldn't drag you off to get some eats," said Bat, cordially.
"I'm hungry," said the burglar, "but I don't know if I can work my face or not." He displayed a swollen region extending from his left eye to the angle of his jaw; besides being puffed and painful looking, it was badly discolored. "Get that? Some bump, eh?"
"I should say, yes," replied Scanlon. "How did it happen?"