"
The others sank back into their seats, and the three I had named
followed me meekly down the hall and stairs.
I had never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Meeker face to face, but I
doubted not that I should be able to pick him out. I was right. I knew
him the moment I saw him. He was tall and broad of shoulder, long of
arm, shifty of eye, and his square jaw was covered with a stubby red
beard. His color heightened as we walked into the office and cut off
the two doors of retreat.
"An unexpected pleasure," I said, giving him good day.
His hand slipped to the side pocket of his sack coat, and then back
again, and he made a remark in an undertone that I fear was not
intended for a pleasant greeting.
"There's a little dinner of a few friends going on up stairs," I said
politely. "Won't you join us?"
Meeker scowled a moment with evident surprise.
"No, I won't," he growled.
"But it is a sad case for a man to dine alone," I said smoothly. "You
will be very welcome."
"No, sir," said he, looking furtively at my men drawing near, between
him and the doors.
"But I insist," I said politely. Then I added in a lower tone meant for
him alone: "Resist, you hound, and I'll have you carried up by your
four legs."
His face was working with fear and passion. He looked at the blocked
way with the eye of a baited animal.
"I'll be damned first!" he cried. And seizing a chair he whirled
around, dashed it through a window, and leaped through the jagged panes
before I could spring forward to stop him.
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