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Updated: June 12, 2025
You ought to be a pretty valuable man, and I expect a lot from you. If I don't get it " He shrugged his shoulders, held Smarlinghue for an instant with half-closed, threatening eyes and then the door closed behind him. Smarlinghue did not move. The steps receded from the door, and died away along the passage. A minute, two minutes went by.
"If you hang around long enough, Smarly," gibed the Pippin, as he passed by on his way toward the door, "maybe some of the rubber-necks off the gape-wagon will take pity on you and buy you another the slumming parties are just crazy about broken-down artists!" "You go chase yourself!" said Smarlinghue politely, through one corner of his twisted mouth. Jimmie Dale's eyes followed the other.
No one had seen him enter not that there should be anything strange in the fact that Smarlinghue should enter Smarlinghue's own room, but it would not be Smarlinghue who went away!
I'm not buying any pictures, I'm buying you. I have been keeping an eye on you for the last three or four months. You're just the guy I've been looking for. As far as I can make out, there ain't a dive or a roost in the Bad Lands where you don't get the glad hand eh?" "I I haven't done anything! Not a thing! I I swear I haven't!" Smarlinghue burst out frantically. "Aw, forget it!"
"Smarlinghue," for very obvious reasons, could neither appear nor bear witness in the case; he could take no chances of the discovery being made that "Smarlinghue" was but a character that cloaked Jimmie Dale and the Gray Seal and, above all, he could take no chances to-night when at last he was on the threshold of the return to his old normal life again!
He wet his lips with his tongue again. "Ten dollars," he said hoarsely. Clancy brushed aside the litter on the table, and nonchalantly laid down a ten-dollar bill. With a sharp little cry that brought on a fit of coughing, Smarlinghue stretched out his hand for the money eagerly. Clancy drew the money back out of reach. "Oh, no, nothing like that!" he drawled unpleasantly.
He had no fear of being recognised as Smarlinghue even here, where, poorly illuminated as the street was, it was like bright sunlight compared with the darkness of the lane.
He heard no sound, but in the mirror he saw the door of his room open, close again, and, leaning with his back against it the Wolf! Not a muscle of Jimmie Dale's face moved. He allowed another gulp of brandy to gurgle noisily down his throat. The cool, alert, keen brain was at work. It was certain that the Wolf had at no time that night recognised him as Smarlinghue.
You didn't suspect he was one of us, did you? and there's more than Whitie Karn. Well, it will teach you to be careful. Suppose Whitie, for instance, passed the word that you were a snitch eh? It won't do you any harm to keep that in mind once in a while." He moved over to the door. "Well, good-night, Smarlinghue! I guess you understand, don't you?
The old days of Larry the Bat had supplied Smarlinghue with the means which, in the last six months, had been turned to such good account that the Smarlinghue of to-day was almost as fully in the confidence of the underworld as had been the Larry the Bat of yesterday. And yet there had been nothing! No clue!
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