There was a big game of pool on in the billiard and bar-room, the participants in which were mostly bargemen who plied on the river.
They were a rough lot, but you could not class them as really bad men, at least not the large majority.
They frequented Plunkett’s because it was a free-and-easy resort, and was handy for them to congregate at.
Dave Plunkett was behind the bar, helping his assistant out.
Clymer rushed into the place through a side door abutting on the river.
This was the only entrance open to customers after one o’clock in the morning.
Otis called for whisky, and poured out such a stiff dose that Plunkett looked at him in some surprise.
He swallowed it at a single gulp, and then asked Dave if he could see him in private.
“Cert,” answered Plunkett, regarding his customer with a suspicious stare. “But what’s up? You looked excited. You ain’t been doin’ nothin’ that’ll get you into limbo, have you?”
“Never mind what I’ve been doing,” retorted Clymer, shortly. “I’ve got something to tell you that you’ll be glad to learn.”