lowly and
steadily ahead, for, certainly, if he stood still, he would be spoken
to. He would have to rely now on the very dim light in this hall and
the shadow of his cap obscuring his face. If these were roomers,
perhaps he would be taken for some newcomer.

But he was hailed at once, and a hand was laid on his shoulder.

"Hello, Pete. What's the dope?"

Ronicky shrugged the hand away and went on.

"Won't talk, curse him. That's because the plant went fluey."

"Maybe not; Pete don't talk much, except to the old man."

"Lemme get at him," said a third voice. "Beat it down to Rooney's. I'm
going up with Pete and get what he knows."

And, as Ronicky turned onto the next flight of the stairway, he was
overtaken by hurrying feet. The other two had already scurried down
toward the front door of the house.

"I got some stuff in my room, Pete," said the friendly fellow who
had overtaken him. "Come up and have a jolt, and we can have a talk.
'Lefty' and Monahan think you went flop on the job, but I know better,
eh? The old man always picks you for these singles; he never gives me
a shot at 'em." Then he added: "Here we are!" And, opening a door in
the first hall, he stepped to the center of the room and fumbled at
a chain that broke loose and tinkled against glass; eventually he
snapped on an electric light. Ronicky Doone saw a powerfully built,
bull-necked man, with a soft hat pulled far down on his head. Then the
man turned.

It was much against the grain for Ronicky Doone to attack a man by
surprise, but necessity is a stern ruler. And the necessity which made
him strike made him hit with the speed of a snapping whiplash and the
weight of a sledge hammer. Before the other was fully turned that
iron-hard set of knuckles crashed against the base of his jaw.

He fell without a murmur, without a struggle, Ronicky catching him in
his arms to break the weight of the fall. It was a complete knock-out.
The dull eyes, which looked up from the floor, saw nothing. The
square, rather brutal, face was relaxed as if in sleep, but here was
the type of man who would recuperate with great speed.

Ronicky set about the obvious task which lay before him, as fast as he
could. In the man's coat pocket he found a handkerchief which, hard
knotted, would serve as a gag. The window curtain was drawn with a
stout, thick cord. Ronicky slashed off a convenient length of it and
secured the hands and feet of his victim, before he turned the