The two men in question looked up and down the block and then Pinhead entered the house. Ida watched and wondered. Liverlips was leaning into the car talking to some one. Then in a minute or two Pinhead came down. He seemed to indicate that everything was all right—that the coast was clear. The door of the sedan opened and a tall negro got out.

Big Ida’s eyes opened wide.

“Money Johnson!” she exclaimed under her breath. “Whut’s he doin’ here!” A faint hope stirred in her massive bosom. “He ain’t a-comin’ to see me, is he?”

She sprang up and rushed through the door leading from the parlor to the hall. Down the well of the stairs she could see Johnson and his companions coming up, But they stopped on the second floor, and she heard a door close after them.

Ida shook her head.

“Ah might a’ knowed he wasn’t comin’ up to me, duh dirty, sneakin’ nigger!”

With unbelievable ease she moved her great weight silently down the old stairs, and at the second floor she paused. She heard men’s voices on the right of the hall. She listened close to the door. She distinguished Money’s deep voice. Satisfied that she knew where he was and highly excited at the presence of her old love, Big Ida went rapidly down the remaining flight of steps to the first floor and burst into old Liza Jones’ flat to the right of the entrance, perspiration pouring down every inch of her large body.

Old Liza was a sprightly colored woman with a mass of kinky gray hair. Her face for all her age still possessed something of the good-looks of her youth. She had worked as a maid in a high class white hook-shop in the Tenderloin, remaining there until District Attorney Jerome had cleaned up the city. Now she was the janitress of this flat-house.

When Big Ida bounced into her flat Liza was just about to go out, but seeing that something was wrong she inquired:

“What’s duh matter wid ya, honey? Yo’ looks worri’d!”

Ida sat down by the window in Liza’s parlor.

“Lawd, Liza,” Ida said. “Ah jes’ seed mah man come in heah.”

Liza appeared mildly surprised.

“Well, whut youse frettin’ about, chile? Ain’t yo’ glad to see him?”

Ida moaned.

“Lawd, he don’ wan’ nothin’ t’ do wid me. He done t’rew me down.”

She looked out the window and Pinhead and Liverlips came out on the front stoop, descended and got into the sedan at the curb.

“Dere goes two o’ Money’s boys,” Ida said. “He mus’ be stayin’ up dere.”

“Yo mean Money Johnson’s upstairs? Ah thought he was in duh jail-house.”

“Yeah, but he out agin now. Ah don’ know whut he doin’ heah, ’cept he’s hidin’ or somepin’.”