There was one building between the Oasis and a Chinese restaurant, but even at that distance they could hear the Chinese rattling dishes at the rear of the restaurant.
It was after nine o’clock when Hashknife suddenly touched Sleepy on the arm. Some one was coming around from the rear of the restaurant. The figure shuffled softly to the rear door of Cole’s office and knocked gently several times. Finally the door opened and they saw that it was a Chinese, carrying a loaded tray, covered with a white cloth.
It was Harry Cole who opened the door. He took the tray from the Chinese.
“I’ll send the tray back later, Charley,” he said.
“Yessa.”
Cole closed the door and the Chinese shuffled back around the building. Hashknife sighed and relaxed.
“Some busy gambler will eat,” whispered Sleepy.
Hashknife did not reply. It was a common thing for food to be brought to a gambling house, as many players do not care to stop playing long enough to go out and eat a meal. There had been a light burning in Cole’s private room when the tray came, but a few moments later the light was turned out.
It was so dark out there that all they could see was the indistinct skyline of the building, the only window in the rear of the Oasis being the one in Cole’s room. About five minutes after the light had vanished they heard the door open and close gently. Came the sound of a man walking on the hard-packed ground. He passed to the left of them, evidently picking his way carefully in the dark. Hashknife squeezed Sleepy’s arm sharply and whispered in his ear:
“Stay where yuh are.”