“I see you don’t believe it,” he said; “But I hope Claymore comes along and believes it. Then he’ll pay us, and we can skip before the cuss comes to life.”
Nat Hamilton smiled.
“He won’t come to life if he’s dead,” he remarked, coolly, “any more than the preacher chap will.”
“Ugh!” grunted Jack, and they were silent again.
Not less than thirty men were in the place.
They were fairly quiet, for they knew that loud noise might bring the police down on the dive, and then their night’s shelter would be closed up.
But they were a tough lot, and every man of them would have joined in to help anybody there if a policeman, or a dozen of them, had come in to make an arrest.
This was so well known that the police usually waited for their men to come out before trying to arrest them.
There hadn’t been a murder in Daddy Drew’s for a long time, and a tough present on this night remarked to another that one was about due.