CHAPTER FIVE
Dave Wilkins, followed by Angus Burke, clambered up the narrow stairs to the living rooms above the printing office. Wilkins threw himself loosely on the carpet-covered sofa, doubled up his legs and grasped an ankle in each hand. For a moment he hunched his shoulders backward and forward until comfort was established; then he turned his attention to Angus, who stood just within the door—a picture of stolidity.
“Come in. Come over here and sit in this chair,” said Wilkins. “We’ll kind of explore each other.”
Angus obeyed, seating himself and fixing dull eyes on his benefactor’s face. He exhibited no surprise, no emotion of any sort. Probably he would have made no manifestation had Wilkins directed him to stand on his head. Somehow, in these intimate surroundings, he seemed less intelligent, more helpless, duller than when Dave had first seen him in jail. Obviously Angus presented difficulties.
“Turn your head,” Dave said suddenly.
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