He
had the time it would take Hunchback Joe to reach and open Klanner's
door from the hall inside--no more. And if he could watch Hunchback Joe
at work it would simplify to a very large extent his own task when
Hunchback Joe was through; there would be no necessity for a _search_,
and--ah! The window gave. He raised it noiselessly, reached inside and
pulled down the roller shade to within an inch of the sill, and pulled
the window down again to a little below the level of the shade. The
opening left was unnoticeable--but he could now both see and hear.
There came a faint sound from within--the creak of a slowly opening
door, a step across the floor, then the flare of a match, and the light
in the room went on.
Jimmie Dale was drawn back now against the wall at one corner of the
window, his eyes on a level with the sill. He had made no mistake about
that misshapen, twisted shadow--it was Hunchback Joe. Jimmie Dale's eyes
travelled to the hunchback's companion--and narrowed as he recognised
the other. The man was well enough known in the underworld, a hanger-on
for the most part, a confirmed hop-fighter, though when not under the
influence of the drug he was counted one of the cleverest second-story
workers and lock-pickers in the Bad Lands--Hoppy Meggs, they called him.
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