It led to a basement room of moderate size, with a cement floor and lighted with several incandescent lamps. In none of the four foundation walls that met Chick’s gaze was there any sign of a window. In one corner, however, a stairway led up to another part of the building.
Near one of the walls stood a long, wooden bench, covered with tools and partly finished articles such as Chick had seen in the store. Aside from this bench, two common wooden chairs and a bare table, the room contained no furnishings worthy of mention.
A workman with his sleeves rolled up, a muscular chap in the twenties, was leaning on the bench with a mallet in his hand.
Bart Bailey was seated on a corner of the table.
Near by, occupying one of the chairs, was a bearded, round-shouldered man in gray—the man whom Patsy Garvan had followed from the department store only a short time before.
Nolan stepped aside to let Chick pass, and the latter quickly noticed that he did not return to the store. It was too significant a fact to be ignored, and Chick was never more alert than at that moment.
“This way, Donovan,” Bailey said, a bit curtly. “Here is Mr. Murdock. I have told him about you. He wants to ask you a few questions.[{30}]”
“All right, sir,” said Chick. “Glad to know you, sir.”
“Very good. Sit down, Mr. Donovan.”
Murdock pointed to the only vacant chair. It was directly in front of him, and scarce three feet away. He sat with his imposing figure bowed slightly forward, with his hands spread on his knees. He had spoken agreeably, but his voice had a hard ring and his eyes a shifty gleam that further put Chick on his guard.