The man took out his pocket-book and paid the money, giving half to each of the girls. “It's just a swindle!” repeated Pinky. “You're an old hard-fisted money-grubber, and no better than a robber. Three dollars and a quarter for all that work! It doesn't pay for the trouble. We ought to have had ten apiece.” “You can make it ten or twenty, or maybe a hundred, if you will,” said Jerkin, with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. He gave his thumb a little movement over his shoulder as he spoke. “That's so!” exclaimed Pinky, her manner undergoing a change, and her face growing bright--at least as much of it as could brighten. “Look here, Nell,” speaking to Miss Peter, and drawing a piece of paper from her pocket, “I've got ten rows here. Fanny Bray gave me five dollars to go a half on each row. Meant to have gone to Sam McFaddon's last night, but got into a muss with old Sal and Norah, and was locked up.” “They make ten hits up there to one at Sam McFaddon's,” said Jerkin, again twitching his thumb over his shoulder. “It's the luckiest office I ever heard of. Two or three hits every day for a week past--got a lucky streak, somehow. If you go in anywhere, take my advice and go in there,” lifting his hand and twitching his thumb upward and over his shoulder again. The two girls passed from the room, and the door was shut and locked inside. No sooner had they done so than Jerkin made a new examination of the articles, and after satisfying himself as to their value proceeded to put them out of sight. Lifting aside a screen that covered the fireplace, he removed from the chimney back, just above the line of sight, a few loose bricks, and through the hole thus made thrust the articles he had bought, letting them drop into a fireplace on the other side. On leaving the room of this professional receiver of stolen goods, Pinky and her friend descended to the second story, and by a door which had been cut through into the adjoining property passed to the rear building of the house next door. They found themselves on a landing, or little square hall, with a stairway passing down to the lower story and another leading to the room above. A number of persons were going up and coming down--a forlorn set, for the most part, of all sexes, ages and colors. Those who were going up appeared eager and hopeful, while those who were coming down looked disappointed, sorrowful, angry or desperate. There was a “policy shop” in one of the rooms above, and these were some of its miserable customers. It was the hour when the morning drawings of the lotteries were received at the office, or “shop,” and the poor infatuated dupes who had bet on their favorite “rows” were crowding in to learn the result.