"Last night," stated Big Slim. "I spotted a fellow in the dark who's turned a trick on a friend of mine. So I made a try to get him. But," with candor, "I didn't. He got me."
"Tough," sympathized Bat. "But wait! Maybe you'll have your chance to come back. You never can tell."
Big Slim grinned. With his distorted face this was not a pleasant sight, and the look in his eyes was sly and wicked.
"I'll get back," said he. "Leave it to me for that. I'll lay him out so stiff that a slab in the morgue'll be bent like a pretzel in comparison."
Bat looked at the man with all the unrestraint of the practiced negotiator.
"Who is he?" he asked, carelessly.
Again the sly, wicked look came into the eyes of the burglar.
"Don't be in a hurry," said he. "You'll know when the time comes."
Bat drew in a deep, silent breath at this; and when the burglar threw open the lid of a trunk, which he dragged from under the bed, and took from the tray a black, well-oiled automatic pistol, he felt a tightening of the scalp. But Big Slim put the weapon in his pocket.
"No one's ever tagged me out without me landing on his neck," declared he. "I do it one way or another, but I always do it."