When the proprietor had gone, Big Slim shuffled about the room, his hands in his pockets.
"The Dutchman's real," said he, to Bat. "I've known him for some time, and he's in on more than anybody would think."
The athlete threw some cigarettes upon the table and drew up two chairs.
"Sit down," said he, with a ready air of ownership. "Let's get better acquainted."
"Not now," replied Big Slim. "Some other time, maybe, I'll open a can of experience with you; but to-night," and he leered knowingly, "I've got a little business."
"All right," said Bat. "I'll see you to-morrow, then."
"Sure," said the lank burglar. "I don't want to lose sight of you, pal, for I owe you one."
"Oh, that's all right," said Scanlon, as he shook hands with the other at the room door. "It was only a little try-out for a freight car like me."
Scanlon stood in the doorway and watched the angular, stoop-shouldered figure go down the hall; there was something so slinking, so furtively deadly in the burglar's motions that Bat felt a prickly sensation run up and down his spine.
"That's the kind of a fellow that would snuff out your light and never lose an hour's sleep over it," said the big athlete to himself. "A wolf! A prowling wolf! But, just as Kirk thought, he's got something inside that lean head of his that I ought to know about, and I mean to know it."