Barney gave no sign
of recognition, and Barlow, after a casual glance at him, returned to
his food.
Barney, in solitude at one end of the bar, slowly sipped with a sort
of indignation against his kickless purchase. Presently Gavegan was
beside him, having most convincing ill-luck in his attempts to light
his cigar from a box of splintering safety matches which stood at that
end of the bar.
"Well, what is it?" Gavegan whispered out of that corner of his mouth
which was not occupied by his cigar. He did not look at Barney.
"Any clue to Larry Brainard yet?" Barney whispered also out of a
corner of his mouth, glass at his lips. Like-wise he seemed not to
notice the man beside him.
"Naw! Still out West somewhere. Them Chicago bums couldn't catch a
crook if he walked along State Street with a sign-board on him!"
"Saw Larry Brainard to-night."
Gavegan had difficulty in maintaining his attitude of non-awareness of
his bar-mate.
"Where?"
"Right here in New York."
"What! Where'd you see him?"
"Coming out of the Grantham."
"When?"
"Fifteen minutes ago."
"Know where he went to?--where he hangs out?--know anything else?"
"That's everything. Thought I'd better slip it to you as quick as I
could."
"This time that bird'll not get away!" growled Gavegan, still in a
whisper.
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