Publisher's Synopsis
"What's wrong, old man? Are you sick?"
Locke shook his head. "I told you fellows I'd been followed this evening. Remember? Well, there's a man downstairs who has given the waiter ten dollars to let him have his coat and apron so he can come in here."
"What for?"
"Who is he?"
The men stared at the speaker with a sudden new interest.
"I'm not sure. I -- think it's part of a plan to rob me." He let his gaze roam from one face to another. "You see -- I just came into a big piece of coin, and I've got it with me. I'm -- I'm alone in New York, understand? They've followed me from St. Louis. Now, I want you boys to help me dodge this --"
Kirk Anthony rose suddenly, moving as lightly upon his feet as a dancer.
"You say he's below?"
"Sit down!" Ringold obeyed. "If he wants to join us, we'll have him come up. We'll give this fellow the third degree and find out who his pals are."
