"He said--some day--he would trap this--this man--through the girl.

So if I happen to meet Jolly Roger McKay, and send him back to the girl, it will help out the law.

Is that it, Breault?
And is there any reward tacked to it?
Anything in it for me ?" Breault was looking at him in the pale light of the alcohol lamp, puffing out tobacco smoke, and with that odd twist of a smile about his thin lips.
"Listen to the storm," he said.

"I think it's getting worse--Cummings!" Suddenly he held out a hand to Peter, who sat near the lamp, his bright eyes fixed watchfully on the stranger.
"Nice dog you have, Cummings.

Come here, Peter! Peter--Peter--" Tight fingers seemed to grip at McKay's throat.