"What's the lay?" he queried.
"I'm expectin' company," grinned Larry the Bat. "Youse keeps yer yap
closed till youse gets de cue--savvy? Dat's all! If youse play fair,
mabbe youse'll get a look-in on de rake-off; if youse throws me down,
the first shot I fires won't miss _youse_. Go on now, get down behind
dat chair--quick!"
Hesitantly, following the flashlight's directing ray, covered by Jimmie
Dale's automatic, Meighan, muttering, made his way across the room, and
crouched down behind the back of a large lounging chair. Jimmie Dale
leaned nonchalantly against the jamb of the door, the flashlight holding
a bead upon the chair.
"Youse'll pardon me if I keeps de spot-light on youse," drawled Larry
the Bat, "Some of youse dicks ain't trustworthy."
"Look here!" Meighan burst out. "This is a hell of a note! What--"
"Youse shut yer face!" Jimmie Dale's voice had grown suddenly cold and
menacing--the stairs were creaking again, this time under a quick tread.
"Listen! Say, youse don't have ter wait long fer de curtain, ter go up
on de act. Don't youse make a sound!"
The doorknob turned. Jimmie Dale whipped his flashlight into his
pocket--and in a flash, as a man entered, switched on the light, and
slammed shut the door.
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