"Keep on with your work." He shook the ashes from his pipe, resumed his seat, and leaned carelessly forward with his elbows on his thighs, his former protege, now deep in his work, squeezing the wet rag into the bucket, and using the broom where the mud was thickest.

When the swabbing-up process brought the man within speaking distance again Felix leaned still further forward and asked: "What sort of a place is this--a restaurant ?" The man turned his head.

He was again on his knees, and had drawn nearer.

He was now wiping the same spot so as to be within reach of Felix's ear.
"Downstairs--yes," he returned in a low voice.

"Upstairs--in the rear--across a roof--" He glanced again at the group and stopped.
"A gambling house ?" "No--a pool-room.