"No back talk!" - drowsily.

"Oh! boy, but I got one on you!"

"What?"

"This Boolzac guy didn't have no baggage, and yuh give 'im the key
without little ol' three-per in advance."

"No grip?"

"Nix. Not a toot'brush in sight."

"Well, the damage is done. I might as well go to sleep."

It was not premeditated on the part of the clerk to give the squat
man the room adjoining that of Hawksley's. The key had been nearest
his hand. But the squat man trembled with excitement when he noted
that it was stamped 214. He had taken particular pains to search
the register for Hawksley's number before rousing the clerk. He
hadn't counted on any such luck as this. His idea had been merely
to watch the door of Room 212.

He had the feline foot, as they say. He moved about lightly and
without sound in the dark. Almost at once he approached one of the
two doors and put his ear to the panel. Running water. The fool
had time to take a bath!

A plan flashed into his head. Why not end the affair here and now,
and reap the glory for himself? What mattered the net if the fish