In another minute Jim entered the room. "Get the clothes and the wig and
things, Jim. I must be off," he said.
"The toughs don't get going till about this time over at Manitou,"
responded Jim. Then he told his master about the clothes having been
exposed in the room when the Romany arrived. "But I don't think he seen
them," Jim added with approval of his own conduct. "I got 'em out quick
as lightning. I covered 'em like a blanket."
"All right, Jim; it doesn't matter. That fellow's got other things to
think of than that."
He was wrong, however. The Romany was waiting outside in the darkness
not far away--watching and waiting.
CHAPTER X
FOR LUCK
Felix Marchand was in the highest spirits. His clean-shaven face was
wrinkled with smiles and sneers. His black hair was flung in waves of
triumph over his heavily-lined forehead; one hand was on his hip with
brave satisfaction, the other with lighted cigarette was tossed upwards
in exultation.
"I've got him. I've got him--like that!" he said transferring the
cigarette to his mouth, and clenching his right hand as though it could
not be loosed by an earthquake. "For sure, it's a thing finished as the
solder of a pannikin--like that.
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