“Now, Skip, we’re come to stay,” answered Jack. “Eh, Crackers?”
“He won’t squeal anyhow,” muttered Skip, “but I’d rather he was not here.”
There was another knock on the door; the ruffian went to it and, after getting the countersign, opened it.
“It’s you, is it? Curse you!”
He caught a young girl who stood in the doorway roughly by the arm, and dragged her in.
“Oh, don’t! you hurt me, Skip.”
The rascal released his hold, and closing the door securely, fastened it.
Returning to the woman, he again caught her and, dragging her toward the light, cried:
“Now, traitor, what have you got to say for yourself? Quick, or I will shake the life out of you.”
Dell Ladley was a fragile girl of about twenty, and she would have been considered very beautiful were it not for the deep marks of dissipation already stamped upon her young features.