"How long has Mr. Logan been ill?" asked Joe.
"Oh, he's been in Kelly's joint for a week."
"He must have been waiting for the circus to arrive," thought Joe. "He knew we were booked for here. Poor fellow!"
Joe was glad it was still light when he entered the district where Kelly's café, or saloon, to be more exact, was situated. For the place was most disreputable in appearance, and the character of men loitering about it would have made it a place to stay away from after dark.
Suspicious eyes looked at Joe as he entered the place with his young guide.
"He's come to see de sick guy," Micky explained to the bartender.
"Well, I hope he's come to pay what's owin'," was the surly comment.
"I'll settle any bills that Mr. Logan may owe for board or lodging," said Joe.
"Board! He don't owe much for board!" sneered the barkeeper. "He hasn't eaten enough to keep a fly alive. But he does owe for his room."
"I'll pay that," offered Joe. Then he was guided upstairs to a squalid room.