across his lips. A mad desire seized him to grasp those fingers and hold them on the lips they had scarcely touched. But the impulse was lost in the thrill of seeing the dining-room door thrown open and a great bulk of a man cross the floor of the office and stand beside Eland s chair. At his side was a thin waif who had not unjustly been termed the mayor of Reuton's shadow.
"Asleep," bellowed the big man. "How's this for a watch-dog, Lou?"
"Right on the job, ain't he?" sneered the thin one.
Mr. Bland started suddenly from slumber, and looked up into the eyes of the newcomers.
"Hello, Cargan," he said. "Hello, Lou. For the love of heaven, don't shout so. The place is full of them."
"Full of what?" asked the mayor.
"Of spotters, maybe—I don't know what they are. There's an old high-brow and a fresh young guy, and two women."
"People," gasped the mayor. "People—here?"
"Sure."
"You're asleep, Bland."
