"
To Bard: "Here's your place, partner. Just been tellin' Duffy, there on
your right, about some work. Some of the doggies have been rustled
lately and we're on their trail."
They took their places, and Bard surveyed the room carefully, as an
actor who stands in the wings and surveys the stage on which he is soon
to step and play a great part; for in Anthony there was a gathering
sense of impending disaster and action. What he saw was a long, low
apartment, the bare rafters overhead browned by the kitchen smoke, which
even now was rolling in from the wide door at the end of the room--the
thick, oily smoke of burnt meat mingled with steam and the nameless
vapours of a great oven.
There was no semblance of a decoration on the walls; the boards were not
even painted. It was strictly a place for use, not pleasure. The food
itself which Shorty Kilrain and Calamity Ben now brought on was
distinctly utilitarian rather than appetizing. The piece de resistance
was a monstrous platter heaped high with beefsteak, not the inviting
meat of a restaurant in a civilized city, but thin, brown slabs, fried
dry throughout.
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