ice; the floor was sanded here, also; between two windows was a
colored print in which William Tell refused to salute the symbol of
tyranny, before a background of Alpine hills. There were heavy benches
along the walls and some chairs scattered about, with a few bare, but
thoroughly scrubbed tables upon which lay newspapers. The men who sat
and smoked, or talked, or read in this room were peculiarly of a kind.
Their dress was almost exactly similar, the stage of wear being the only
difference. Each of them smoked a cigarette, nervously; each wore a cap
which came well down to the ears and shoes which "humped" up suddenly at
the toes. They had the furtive manners which become habitual in the
shaded section of a big city; their eyes were quick and cold and always
inquiring.

Bat took a seat at a window, and also lighted a cigarette.

"My make-up is fair," thought he, complacently, "and now, with the
cigarette going, no one would doubt that I had been working under cover
for years."

He read a newspaper and smoked for the better part of an hour; the light
had dimmed and the old Swiss had turned on the gas; then Big Slim,
narrow shouldered and stooping, came into the room with his peculiar
slinking gait.

"Hello!" greeted Scanlon, as he got up. "I've just been wondering if I
was going to see you."

"Was out with a friend of mine looking over some new work," said the
burglar, with a grin. "You gotta keep after business if you expect to
get any of it."

"Had anything to eat?" asked Bat.

"Not yet. Let's go around to Joey Loo's."

The two left the hotel, and passed through a tangle of narrow, forlorn
looking streets; then they turned into a cellar opening, with dirty
wooden steps and a glass-paneled door upon which was painted some
Chinese characters in brilliant red. The warm, moist breath of oriental
cookery was thick around them as they sat down at one of the small
tables, and Scanlon looked about. Some patrons of both sexes were
already there; the women were dejected, or hard; here and there were
seen a few who were merely vacant. The men were of the meagre, pallid
type, nervous of action and furtive of eye. Stoical Chinamen, with
soft-falling feet, carried food about.

"Great chow in this dump," said Big Slim. "I spotted it one night when I
was edging away from a 'bull.' The Chinks can cook, and that's more than
you can say of a lot of the other folks who take it into their heads to
run eating places."

A fa