stairway. That he might have a
spacious room for his business, the partitions of the former offices
had been removed, with the exception of those enclosing his office, and
a room at the extreme end of the building which opened on the hall,
near the end window, just over the fire-escape. This room was
expensively fitted up as a lavatory, with marble panels, basins, and
tiling. A uniformed negro with the inevitable whisk-broom was always
in attendance, quite as keen at "getting the dust" as was his employer.
The door to this room was fitted with a spring lock which allowed it to
be opened only from the inside, except with a pass-key.

The Spider's cab, swinging into the alley, stopped directly beneath the
lower extension of the fire-escape. "Pull over closer to the wall," he
told the driver. Then he climbed to the driver's seat and stepped onto
the iron ladder. "You can drive round to the front and wait," he told
the cabby, who lost no time in getting out of the alley. Like most
nocturnal cabmen, he was quite willing to drive anywhere; but he
sincerely preferred to do his waiting for his fare in a more open
street.

The window at the rear end of the hall was fastened. The Spider broke
the glass just below the catch with the butt of his gun. He raised the
window and slid into the hallway.

"Who dat?" came from the lavatory.

"It's me, Sam," said The Spider thickly, imitating the voice of a man
overcome by drink. "I cut my hand on the window. Want to get in--wash
up--blood--"

"I ask Misto Baxtuh, suh."

"Lemme in--quick--or you lose a five-spot. Bleeding bad--want to wash
up--"

The spring lock clicked softly. Before Sam knew what had happened, The
Spider was in the lavatory and between him and the door to the main
room. "Get going," said The Spider. The amazed negro backed away from
that eloquent menace in The Spider's right hand.
"M-m-m-misto--misto--Captain-- Ah ain't done nuffin!"

"Git!"--and The Spider indicated the rear window.

The negro backed into the hall, saw the open window, and vanished
through it without parley. He dropped from the last step of the
fire-escape and picking himself up started to run, with no definite
destination in mind save space.

As Baxter had said, things were quiet that night. The poker table had
been deserted and the players had left. A few "regulars" still hung
about the faro layout and the wheel. The hired "bouncer" had stepped
into the office to spea