“See here, Spike,” said Lannigan. “You don’t want to do anything ugly until you know what you’re doing. Billy and I can’t talk with you until we’ve been across the river. We’ll be back inside of an hour and see you right here. If there’s a whack into anything you’ll get your share.”
The two tossed off their drinks, and rising, immediately left the saloon.
Spike Thomas remained at the table, looking, as Patsy thought, much dissatisfied with the outcome.
“Anyhow,” said Patsy, “Spike will remain here for an hour or two.”
Suddenly Patsy rose to his feet and sauntered from the saloon.
He ran up the street hastily and turned the corner.
Half an hour later a young fellow, rather jauntily dressed but, nevertheless, one in whom the east-side tough showed, came down the street and turned into the saloon where Spike was awaiting the return of Lannigan and his companion.
Arriving in the center of the barroom he gave a flip to the brim of his hat with a snap of his finger, sending it back on his head, gave a characteristic hitch to one shoulder and, with a protruding chin, walked over to the table where Spike Thomas sat.
“Say, Spike, I’ve been lookin’ for youse,” said the newcomer.
Spike looked up with a frown on his face and curiously regarded the other fellow.