“Stop that, you fool!” grated Spendly. “How can they suspect us?”
He strode to the door and fumbled at the key unsteadily. He was pale, but there was desperate determination written in his face.
At last the lock yielded and the door flung open revealing—the man in charge of the place.
“You want more drink?” he asked, in broken English, bowing humbly.
“No!” snarled Chris, tossing him a piece of money.
“Come on,” he added to Judson. “It’s time we were at the dock.”
They had presence of mind enough to saunter forth leisurely, but once free of the ill-favored resort they quickened their steps almost to a run.
“It won’t do for you to be seen looking like that,” exclaimed Spendly, roughly, passing under a street lamp. “Brace up, you fool. You would give yourself away to a blind man.”
Judson pulled himself together with an effort. He was ghastly pale, but he walked steadily as they resumed their way toward the dock.