Gillman went away, and Ramsay and Starlick continued their conversation.
“I’m scared all the while I’m in New York, Starlick,” said Ramsay.
“On account of this deal?”
“Thunder, no. On account of Nick Carter. He only saw me for about a minute, some time ago, and a clean shave and these clothes have changed me. Besides, I introduced myself as Yasmar, not as Ramsay. I’d be willing to take my oath that he never recognized me when I called on him this morning, and yet——”
He paused.
“Yet what?” urged Starlick.
“I’m losing my nerve, I reckon. But you never can tell what Carter thinks, or what he’s going to do. If I could have got him out of town for the next forty-eight hours, I’d be feeling easier, this minute. Hello! What’s that?”
A hand tried the door. Failing to gain entrance, the same hand banged on the panel.
“It’s all right,” answered Starlick. “No need putting your hand to your hip, old man.”
Patsy heard the door open and a gruff voice from the hall: