confronted him.




Chapter Ten


_Mistaken Identity_

To flee down the stairs now would be rank folly. If there happened to
be among these fellows a man of the type of him who sneered, a bullet
would catch the fugitive long before he reached the bottom of the
staircase. And, since he could not retreat, Ronicky went slowly and
steadily ahead, for, certainly, if he stood still, he would be spoken
to. He would have to rely now on the very dim light in this hall and
the shadow of his cap obscuring his face. If these were roomers,
perhaps he would be taken for some newcomer.

But he was hailed at once, and a hand was laid on his shoulder.

"Hello, Pete. What's the dope?"

Ronicky shrugged the hand away and went on.

"Won't talk, curse him. That's because the plant went fluey."

"Maybe not; Pete don't talk much, except to the old man."

"Lemme get at him," said a third voice. "Beat it down to Rooney's. I'm