DeLancy raised his head, looked out through glazed eyes, and slowly withdrew his stare to the vacant fireplace, where a smoldering flicker drew his mind.
"Found him an hour ago in a hell over in Eighth Avenue," said Marsh. "Bad."
Granning beckoned him, and together they went into the bedroom, closing the door.
"All right now. Guess he'll stay quiet. Pretty violent when we came back," said Granning. "Wanted to throw himself out of the window."
"And the pistol," said Bojo, sick at the thought of what might have been.
"Yes, we found that on him," said Granning gravely. "Lucky he got drunk so quick, or that might have been serious." He hesitated and added: "He swears he'll kill himself first chance. Guess I'd better keep my eye on him to-night."
At this moment there was the sound of a scuffle from the den and a shout from Marsh. They rushed in to find him grappling with Fred, who was striving frantically to reach the window. For a moment the air was full of shouts and sudden scurrying.
"Look out, he's got that paper-cutter!"
"In his right hand."
"All right, I've got him."