The light being dim, Ravenslee drew closer to the lamp, and standing thus against the light, his face was in shadow--also his long figure was silhouetted upon the opposite wall, plain to be seen by any one opening the door. Suddenly, as he stood with head bent above the paper, this door opened suddenly, and M'Ginnis entered; he also held a paper, and now he spoke without troubling to lift his scowling gaze from the printed column he was scanning: "That you, Lefty? Here's a hell of a mix-up--that dog-gone fool Heine's got himself pinched--and in Jersey City too! I told him t' stay around here till things was quiet! It's goin' t' be a hell of a job t' fix things for him over there--'t ain't like N' York. But we got t' fix things for him or chance him squealing on th' rest of us, but what beats me is--" M'Ginnis's teeth clicked together, and the paper tore suddenly between his hands as, glancing up at last, he beheld two keen, grey eyes that watched him and a mouth, grim and close-lipped, that curled in the smile Spider didn't like. For a long, tense moment they stood motionless, eye to eye, then, reaching behind him, M'Ginnis locked the door, and drawing out the key, thrust it into his pocket. "So--I got ye at last--have I?" said he slowly. "And I've got you," said Ravenslee pleasantly; "we seem to have got each other, don't we?" "See here, you," said M'Ginnis, his massive shoulders squared, his big chin viciously outthrust, "you're goin' t' leave Mulligan's, see?" "Am I?" said Ravenslee, lounging upon a corner of the battered desk. "You sure are," nodded M'Ginnis. "Hell's Kitchen ain't big enough for you an' me, I guess; you're goin' because I say so, an' you're goin' t'night!" "You surprise me!" said Ravenslee sleepily. "You're goin' t' quit Hell's Kitchen for good and--you ain't comin' back!" "You amaze me!" and Ravenslee yawned behind his hand. "An' now you're goin' t' listen why an' wherefore--if you can keep awake a minute!" "I'll try, Mr. Flowers, I'll try." M'Ginnis thrust clenched hands into his pockets and surveyed Ravenslee with scornful eyes--his lounging figure and stooping shoulders, his long, white hands and general listless air. "God!" he exclaimed, "that she should trouble t' look twice at such a nancy-boy!" and he spat, loud and contemptuously. "Almost think you're trying to be rude, Mr. Flowers." "Aw--I couldn't be, to a--thing like you! An' see here--me name's M'Ginnis!" "But then," sighed Ravenslee, "I prefer to call you Flowers--a fair name for a foul thing--" M'Ginnis made a swift step forward and halted, hard-breathing and menacing. "How much?" he demanded. "Fair name for a very foul thing, Mr. Flowers," repeated Ravenslee, glancing up at him from under slumberous, drooping lids--"anyway, Flowers you will remain!"