Keene clutched the butt of his revolver with one hand and waited
developments with considerable anxiety.
"Come on, pard."
Then Jounce led the way down a dark and narrow passage to another door,
which he pushed open.
"Go in, boss."
The detective hesitated.
Noticing it the tramp strode on in advance, struck a match and lit a gas
jet that stood out from the wall.
"A pokerish place," said Keene, as he followed Jounce into the room and
gazed about him.
"Its private anyhow," returned the burly fellow with a laugh.
There could be no disputing this fact.
A round table occupied the center of a small room, with a chair on either
side of it. A pack of cards and decanter of liquor occupied the center of
the table, also a couple of glasses.
"Everything as snug's pigs in clover," chuckled Jounce. "This ere's the
boss' private room, where he entertains peticler guests. Them as wants a
private confab comes in here."
"Indeed."
One fact the detective noted, the room had no window, and was evidently
entirely within the building. Not a sound from without, or from the
barroom penetrated the place.
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