“He is going to kill me some day. I saw him kill a man once. He hit him with his fist. They carried the man to the river.” “Suppose I come here to-morrow night with a gat, stick up the joint, make the Dropper whine like a cur. What would you do?” “He wouldn’t whine. He’d kill you--the way he killed that man who didn’t pay him for a card of hop.” Fay caught the underworld note. “Do you smoke?” His voice was suspicious. “No, I don’t smoke opium. I watch other people do that.” “You’re too sensible. Does the Dropper smoke?” “He don’t smoke, either. He sells the stuff.” * * * * * The girl’s naïveté brought a smile to Fay’s lips. “You’re going East,” he said. “I’ll make the money for your education. I’ve got two big jobs located. One is in Maiden Lane.” “Diamonds?” “Yes, gems. What do you say, little Emily?” “I--I am afraid.” “But think what a beautiful world this is. There is London and Paris and Rome.” “London and Paris and Rome mean nothing to me. I wouldn’t know how to behave in those places. All I’ve known is Harrison Street, and the back rooms of saloons, and getting beat up.” “But your dad was a high-roller.” “He wasn’t always. Sometimes he was broke. Sometimes we didn’t know where we were going to get things to eat.” Fay’s voice grew tender. “Emily,” he said, “that’s all a bad dream. Yesterday afternoon I made a get-away. A man who was dying--a mark for the prison screws--told me to go and save his daughter. I don’t want you to think I forgot that request. I could never forget it. Charley was a pal o’ mine. I came right to you. I see the lay-out. You’re cowed, beaten, crushed, by the Dropper. I’ll croak him when you ask me to.” “You can’t! I want you to go away. Please don’t suggest anything like that. I like you, but I can never run away with you. I’m afraid.” “Good God, do you want me to leave you in this joint?” “It’s the only life I’ve ever known.” “Where do you sleep?” “On a cot upstairs.” “And you ought to have a palace. Did you ever look at yourself in the glass?” “Sometimes, after he beats me.” Fay started toward the door. He heard a chair upset. Little Emily dragged on his arm. “Don’t go to him! He’ll kill you.” “Then you come with me.” “I’m afraid to.” The girl spoke the truth. Her color was ashen. Fay went to the table, lifted her chair, turned it and motioned for her to sit down. She hesitated between the table and door. “Please,” said Fay. He might have been addressing a princess. Her color returned in rippling waves. She tried to smile. Her lips trembled--she took one step in his direction, swayed, and pressed her fists to her breast. The Dropper’s form completely filled the doorway. “Come here!” he snarled. “Hold on!” snapped Fay. “Come ’ere, yuh!” The girl between the two men, made her choice, or rather, had it made for her.