the dark, and tossed the pieces to the breeze. They fluttered away in all
directions.
Sneaking craftily, Ferret reached the front door of an old apartment
building. The inner lobby was dimly lighted. He entered and turned toward a
flight of stairs at the left, ascending to the third floor.
At the end of the hall were two doors - one at the corner on the left; the
other on the right, but a dozen feet from the corner.
There was a light beaming through the glass transom of the doorway on the
left. Ferret grinned.
He stared suspiciously at the door on the right. The transom above it was
black. That was sufficient.
Ferret looked back along the gloomy hall. Seeing no one, he advanced to a
radiator at the extreme end of the hall. He stooped and fished beneath the
radiator. A key glimmered in his hand.
Ferret was looking intently at the key. He did not observe the white face
pressed against the transom at the right. Some one was watching him, but Ferret
did not know it. Silently, the stoop-shouldered man unlocked the door at the
left and entered.
He was very cautious now - more stealthy than he had been in the hall,
where his footfalls left a slight sound. He was peering into a lighted room,
from a small entry. In the far corner he observed a stout, bald-headed man
seated at a desk.
Ferret's lips curled in hatred as he noiselessly closed the door behind
him. From his hip pocket he drew a short, stub-nosed revolver.
He crept forward like a preying cat until he was no more than six feet
away from the bald-headed man. Then a sneering chuckle came from Ferret.
The stout man whirled quickly in his swivel chair. His red, bloated face
became a livid purple. His body trembled. His bulging, startled eyes caught the
upward nudge of Ferret's revolver. Instinctively, he raised his arms.
FERRET, cold-eyed, harsh-faced, and unmasked, stared directly at his
quarry. The venomous hate in his eyes did not seem to impress Daniel Antrim.
The lawyer stared back at Ferret, wonderingly. Evidently he did not
recognize the man who was threatening him.
"What do you want?" he demanded suddenly.
"I want to talk to you," growled Ferret, with a leer.
"Who are you?" questioned Antrim.
The reply was an outburst of cackling laughter.
"Who am I?" quizzed Ferret. "Did you ever hear of a man named Joel
Hawkins?"
Antrim shook his head slowly.
"Well, that's who I am. Joel Hawkins!" Ferret's laugh was frigid. "And
you're Dan Antrim, the lawyer. The double-crosser!"
A startled look came over Antrim. For a moment he trembled. Then he became
steadier, and assumed the air of a man who is ready to play out a desperate
bluff.
"You're wrong," he said, "all wrong. You're mixed up. Let's take this easy
now. Put down that gun -"
"And let you pull another double cross? Nix!"
