"Mister!" he said, with a note of deep confidence which made Yada look at
him with a sudden sense of fear. "Mister!--I wouldn't go no way at all if
I was you--just now. You're in danger, mister--you shoved your head into
the lions' den when you walked in where I've just seen you! Deep, deep is
them fellows, mister!--they're having you on toast. I know where you're
thinking of going, mister, in that cab. Don't go--take my tip!"
"How do you know where I'm going?" demanded Yada.
"I was looking over Levendale's shoulder when he wrote that bit of a
cheque, mister," answered Melky, in his quietest accents. "You're off to
his bank to turn it into cash. And--if you walk into that bank--well,
you'll never walk out again, alone! Mister!--they're going to collar you
there--there's a trap laid for you!"
Melky was watching Yada's face out of his own eye-corners, and he saw the
olive-tinted skin pale a little, and the crafty eyes contract. And on the
instant he pursued his tactics and his advantage. He had purposely steered
the Japanese into a more crowded part of the street, and now he edged him
into a bye-alley which led to a rookery of narrow bye-streets beyond.
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