Trapped

West smiled pleasantly, glad the man had taken the initiative, thus naturally opening up a way for asking certain questions. Whatever his own immediate object might be in thus scraping an acquaintance made no difference. It would doubtless develop in time, but meanwhile here was the opportunity sought to discuss the affairs of the neighbourhood. Yet the subject must be approached with due caution. The very indifference of the bar-tender coupled with the evident desire of this hanger-on to form an acquaintance, served to reveal the real nature of "Mike's Place." Plainly enough strangers were viewed with suspicion, and this was no ordinary saloon, catering to whatever trade drifted within its doors. More than likely it was rather a thieves' hang-out, ever suspicious of the activity of the police.

Yet this fellow bore no outward semblance to the common conception of the under-world. Nor did his actions or words exhibit any motive other than ordinary good-fellowship. He was well dressed, easy of manner, with an exceptionally intelligent face, blue eyes meeting West's gaze frankly, a carefully trimmed moustache, with white teeth good humouredly showing when he smiled, and threads of grey in his hair. His very appearance invited confidence and comradeship, while his outspoken words increased this impression.

"Excuse my butting in," he explained genially. "But it's damn dull around here tonight. Nobody to talk with but a couple o' bums. You see I don't belong around here; just dropped in for a bit of business with Mike."