"I'll think over it," was the reply. "But there's one thing, McGinnis, which I want you to understand, that I won't take up with a slouch."
"I ain't no slouch," protested McGinnis. "Why, I've——" and then started again, he began recounting his exploits in a boastful tone.
Shadow listened, his ears drinking in the other's words with an avidity equal to that of the leech, as it sucks the blood of the victim to which it has fastened.
The detective heard partially what he wished to hear, and his eyes began to gleam with a red and dangerous light.
Deftly, and with a purpose, he now and then interpolated a word to direct McGinnis' mind into other channels, and at last the end toward which he had aimed was gained.
Out of his own mouth McGinnis had convicted himself.
Distinctly, unequivocally, he had fastened on himself a terrible crime—a crime which it was Shadow's sworn purpose to avenge.
"Thank Heaven!"
So earnestly did Shadow utter this exclamation that it fixed the attention of McGinnis, stupid with drink as he was.
Shadow saw it, and hastened to remove the impression made on the mind of the villain.