The room in which Billy and Bridge found themselves was
a small one in the center of which was a large round table at
which were gathered a half-dozen men at poker. Above the
table swung a single arc lamp, casting a garish light upon the
players beneath.
Billy looked quickly about for another exit, only to find
that besides the doorway through which he had entered there
was but a single aperture in the four walls-a small window,
heavily barred. The place was a veritable trap.
At their hurried entrance the men had ceased their play,
and one or two had risen in profane questioning and protest.
Billy ignored them. He was standing with his shoulder against
the door trying to secure it against the detective without; but
there was neither bolt nor bar.
Flannagan hurtling against the opposite side exerted his
noblest efforts to force an entrance to the room; but Billy
Byrne's great weight held firm as Gibraltar. His mind revolved
various wild plans of escape; but none bade fair to offer the
slightest foothold to hope.
The men at the table were clamoring for an explanation of
the interruption. Two of them were approaching Billy with the
avowed intention of "turning him out," when he turned his
head suddenly toward them.
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