“No, something in the bank-cracking line. It’s a soft thing.”
“Yes,” added Greer, “there will not be the slightest trouble.”
“Well, count me out,” said Skip. “New York is getting too hot for me; I guess I’ll rusticate for a while.”
“If you are going to Florida for the good of your health,” remarked Tambourine Jack, crossing one leg over the other, “count me in; my lungs ain’t very strong, and as for Crackers, he has consumption very bad. Haven’t you, old boy?”
There was a knock on the room door and, without waiting to be invited in, the barmaid entered.
“Skip,” she said, “a young woman outside wants to see you.”
The ruffian followed the barmaid and found himself face to face with Dell Ladley.
“You here!” he exclaimed. “You have nerve, at any rate. Don’t you know I will kill you?”
“I care not,” she said, placing her hand tenderly on his shoulder.
With an angry motion he removed it and caught her by the throat.