Were they attempting to lure him out with this stale pretext? He decided to take the gambler’s chance which he loved above all things. The moment he had drawn the bolt he leaped back and landed noiselessly far to the side where an enemy would never look for him on first entering. On one point he was certain. If there were the glint of a g*n in the hand of the man who entered, he would fling the open, heavy pocket knife that he now held in his hand. That was a dainty little art which he had picked up in odd moments from an Italian friend.
But, when the door was pushed open, a big man strode in and at once closed the door behind him again and secured the lock and the bolt. There was no glimmer of a g*n in the darkness.
“Where are you, Al?”
“Who are you?” asked Al Rankin.
“A friend.”
“Wh
