"You'll have to settle with him for that piece of business," said Dicky
with a chuckle.

I failed to see the amusing side of the prospect. I wished I knew what
Mr. Meeker looked like.

The guard had melted away into the darkness without another word, and
we hurried forward with due caution. Just past the next corner was a
lighted room, and the sound of voices broke the quiet. A triangular
glass lantern projected from above the door, and such of the paint as
had not weathered away made the announcement:

[Illustration: BORTON'S Meals Liquors Lodgings]

We pushed open the door and walked in. The room was large and dingy,
the ceiling low. Tables were scattered about the sanded floor. A bar
took up the side of the room next the entrance, and a general air of
disreputability filled the place. The only attempts at ornament, unless
the arrangement of various-colored bottles behind the bar came under
that head, were the circles and festoons of dirty cut paper hanging
from the ceiling.

About the room, some at the tables, some at the bar, were numbers of
stout, rough-looking men, with a few Greek fishermen and two or three
sailors.

Behind the bar sat a woman whose appearance in that place almost
startled me. She might have been nearing seventy, and a hard and evil
life had left its marks on her bent frame and her gaunt face. Her
leathery cheeks were lined deep, and a hawk-like nose emphasized the