The shade was drawn, only a yellow murk filtered out into the black, unlighted lane, but suddenly he started noiselessly toward it.

The window was open a bare inch or so at the bottom! The sill was just shoulder high, and, placing his ear to the opening, he flattened himself against the wall.

He could not see inside, for the shade was drawn well to the bottom; but he could hear as distinctly as though he were at the table beside the two men--and at the first words, the loose, disjointed frame of Larry the Bat seemed to tauten curiously and strain forward lithe and tense.
"This Gray Seal dope listens good, Whitey; but, coming from you, I'm leery.

You've got to show me." "Don't you want him ?" There was a nasty laugh from Whitey Mack.
"You BET I want him!" returned the headquarters man with a suppressed savagery that left no doubt as to his earnestness.

"I want him fast enough, but--" "Then, blast him, so do I!" Whitey Mack rapped out with a vicious snarl.
"So does every guy in the fleet down here.