Then he whipped out a dirty handkerchief, forced Hashknife’s jaws open, and gagged him.
“I reckon you’ll stay put,” he said grimly. Then he blew out the light, crossed the floor, and Hashknife heard him going softly down the stair.
Relaxing his muscles Hashknife began releasing the ropes. It was ridiculously easy. He untied the gag, and stretched out on the floor. The exertion had caused his head to throb sickeningly. After a few minutes he began crawling to the head of the stairs. Just before he reached the stairs his hands came in contact with an old kitchen chair of considerable weight.
Downstairs a door closed softly, and in a few moments Hashknife saw the glow from a lamp. Came a sharp exclamation, silence; and then a harsh laugh.
“I thought you’d come back, you dirty sneak.” It was the voice of Kid Glover.
“Keep yore hands still, you dam’ fool! That’s the idea. Mebby yuh better unbuckle that belt. Just let it fall.”
Came the thud of a belt and gun striking the floor.
“What do you want?” Butch Reimer’s voice was not very steady.
“That’s a hell of a question, you crooked pup.”
“I never played crooked with you,” denied Butch, hotly, it seemed. “By God, you tried to play crooked with me.”