Maybe, Dan, it might be worth while for you to hang around.
Do as you please about that." He turned away and went up the wooden steps to the door of the Red Dog.
The marshal's eyes followed him solicitously until he disappeared within; then he slipped back into the alleyway, skirting the side of the building, until he reached a window near the rear.
Westcott closed the door behind him and took a swift view of the barroom.

There were not many present at that hour--only a few habitual loafers, mostly playing cards; a porter was sweeping up sawdust and a single bartender was industriously swabbing the bar with a towel.
Westcott recognised most of the faces with a slight feeling of relief.
Neither Enright nor Beaton were present, and it was his desire to meet Lacy alone, away from the influence of these others.

He crossed over to the bar.
"Where's Bill ?" he asked.
"Back there," and the dispenser of drinks inclined his head toward a door at the rear.

"Go on in." The fellow's manner was civil enough, yet Westcott's teeth set with a feeling that he was about to face an emergency.

Yet there was no other way; he must make Lacy talk.