The door was hastily unlocked, and the man stepped inside.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“The devil is to pay.”
“Then pay him, if you can find a member of your crowd that has a soul. I understand that the gentleman you name has a liking for souls, my friend.”
The newcomer was tall and slender, with sharp eyes and very glossy black whiskers, which clung close to a very white face.
He was an important personage in the electric-drill combination, having supplied most of the money with which to equip the chophouse and purchase the machinery.
“You will have your joke,” growled Gilmore.
“Anything new from the South Side?” asked the newcomer, who was a doctor by profession, and always smelled of drugs.
“Parks and Nixon are still there,” was the reply.
“Did they get away from here without being followed?”