Billy Bowlegs was himself behind the bar. He seemed to recognize the
officer, for he nodded and set out a decanter of brandy and shoved it
toward him.
After drinking the officer said:
"An old gentleman entered a short time since. I had my eye on him, and
would like to see him."
"Man with long hair, and one eye?"
"No. A real gentleman, with gray hair and beard."
"Seems 's though I do remember seeing such a chap," uttered the
barkeeper. "How long ago was it?"
"Nearly an hour."
"Probably he went away."
"Not by the front door."
"Eh! Then you've been watching him? Suspicious character, eh?"
"Yes."
"You can look through the rooms."
Billy Bowlegs led the way behind the screen.
Half a dozen men sat playing at the tables, as many more smoking and
reclining on settees at the side of the room.
The air was thick with smoke, yet the keen glance of the police officer
showed that his friend, the detective, was not present.
"Strange!" muttered the officer.
"He doubtless went out the side door," and Billy Bowlegs pointed to a
narrow door at the side of the room.
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