built like a fullback and a good battler. Together they walked up to the shabby, unlighted entrance to the Callahan "social parlors." Speedy knocked on the door. After an interval a panel about four inches square cut in the door about on a level with Speedy's nose was shoved open and an inquiring eye stared into his.
"Who's there?" asked a gruff voice.
"Friend of Mr. Carter," Speedy answered boldly.
The eye continued to stare.
After a pause the voice said. "Wait there a minute—you."
The eye disappeared. A few minutes that seemed an eternity passed. Then again the eye appeared at the open panel—no, it was a different eye. Speedy looked very hard, for, though he could not be sure, he had an idea that the new eye was the dark, shrewd optic of Steven Carter himself! Before he could verify this, the space again became blank. The door was unexpectedly pulled open halfway. Speedy, followed by Danny, walked in. A huge, unshaven man in the soiled sweater and dirty dungarees of a longshoreman confronted them.
"What are you two bimbos lookin' for?" he inquired belligerently.
"Is Mr. Carter here?" inquired Speedy.
"Nobody by that name around here."
"Then why did you let us in when I mentioned Mr. Carter's name?"
"Lissen—I let you in because I want to know what you guys are doin' hangin' outside there. And get this—I'm askin' the questions; youse ain't!
