"Who is he?"
The men stared at the speaker with a sudden new interest.
"I'm not sure. I—think it's part of a plan to rob me." He let his gaze roam from one face to another. "You see—I just came into a big piece of coin, and I've got it with me. I'm—I'm alone in New York, understand? They've followed me from St. Louis. Now, I want you boys to help me dodge this—"
Kirk Anthony rose suddenly, moving as lightly upon his feet as a dancer.
"You say he's below?"
Locke nodded. It was plain that he was quite unnerved.
Ringold rose in turn and lurched ponderously toward the door, but Kirk stepped in front of him with a sharp word:
"Wait! I'll manage this."
"Lemme go," expostulated the centre-rush. "Locke's a good fellow and this man wants to trim him."
"No, no! Sit down!" Ringold obeyed. "If he wants to join us, we'll have him come up."