“His name is Dempsey,” said the man. “My brother was telling me yesterday that, some years ago, he used to keep a game downtown which was a crooked one. But I don’t know about that.”
“The house has had a curious history,” said Chick. “I’m going in to look at it. Will you go over and have a drink?”
“I don’t care if I do,” said the man.
The three crossed and entered the saloon.
It was an ordinary drinking place, not well kept, and the floor was covered with sawdust. In the rear of the room were several tables, one of which was near a door.
At this table were seated the four men Chick and Patsy had followed, and another, who, from the fact that he was in his shirt sleeves, seemed to be the proprietor of the place.
Lannigan and the man in his shirt sleeves were in close conversation.
“That man in his shirt sleeves,” said the man, who had entered with Chick and Patsy, “is Dempsey. The man he is talking with is a rounder downtown—a swell gambler. I don’t know what his name is.”
While the three stood at the bar drinking, Lannigan and Dempsey arose from their seats and, leaving the others at the table, passed through the door near them, the door being closed after them.
Some minutes passed and then the other two men also passed through the door, this time leaving it partly ajar.