over his shoulder the swift glance of an entrapped animal, he seemed
about to leap backward to escape by a rear entrance when the voice of
the intruder arrested his purpose, momentarily held him.

"Oh, I'm alone! There are no police outside." He spoke in the dialect of
the pick-purse and magsman. To prove it, John Steele stooped and locked
the door.

The small bloodshot eyes lighted with wonder; the heavy brutish jaws
began to harden. "Alone?"

The other tossed the key; it fell at the man's feet; John Steele walked
over to the opposite door and shot a heavy bolt there. "Looks as if it
would hold," he said in thieves' argot as he turned around.

"Are ye a gaby?" The red-headed giant stared ominously at him.

"On the contrary," coolly, "I know very well what I am doing."

A question interlarded with oaths burst from the other's throat; John
Steele regarded the man quietly. "I should think it apparent what I
want!" he answered. As he spoke, he sat down. "It is you," bending his
bright, resolute eyes on the other.

"And you've come alone?" He drew up his ponderous form.

John Steele smiled. "I assure you I welcomed the opportunity."

"You won't long." The great fists closed. "Do you know what I am going
to do to you?"