"Now here's all there is to it.

Mr.Brown thinks Bill can put him wise to a party he's got business with.

There's no pinch goes with it, and Mr.Brown's willing to do the handsome." "Well," replied the barman doubtfully, "if Bill's about, I'll see what he thinks himself." With this, the barman, who was a brutal specimen with lumpy shoulders and a nose that had seen better days, called one of the loungers to preside in his stead, and retired through a door to the rear.

He returned in a moment saying that Bill would see the caller, and jerked his stubby thumb in the direction of a back room.
"This is a boozing ken for hold-up people," explained Mr.Norris in a whisper, as he and Storri obeyed the hint tendered by the barman's thumb.

"That bar-keep, Dan, used to be a strong-arm man himself; but since he's got this joint, he doesn't do any work, and has turned fall-guy for a fleet that operates along the Bowery." Storri knew nothing of "strong-arm men," and "fall-guys," and "fleets," but he put no questions, and only seemed intent on meeting London Bill.
In the rear room that formidable outlaw was discovered seated at a table.