"But didn't she hand her hundred and ten over to The Doc, just to cover running-expenses? Ain't that worth rememberin'? And ain't she got the fear o' Gawd thrown into her? And ain't she comin' back to-night wit' that wine-jelly and old Port and her own check-book?" This allocution was followed by an appreciative silence. "But it's old Lockwood who's got o' come across," that individual known as The Doc finally reminded his confrères. This brought a snort of contempt from Latreille. "I tell you again old Lockwood'll fight you to the drop of the hat. The girl's your meat. She's your mark. You've got her! And if you've only got the brains to milk her right she's good for forty thousand. She's weakened already. She's on the skids. And she's got a pile of her own to pull from!" "Forty thousand?" echoed the other, with a smack of the lips. "That's thirteen thousand a-piece," amended Latreille largely, "with one over for Car-Step Sadie." "Cut out that name," commanded Crotty. "Well, Babbie then, if that suits you better. And it's a landslide for her!" "Ain't she earned it?" demanded her silvery-haired old guardian. "Strikes me as being pretty good pay for gettin' bunted over with a play-car and not even a shin-bruise." "Well, ain't her trainin' worth something, in this work?" "Sure it is--but how 'n hell did she get that blood streakin' across her face so nice and life-like?" The silvery-haired old gentleman chuckled as he put down his glass of square-face. "That's sure our Babbie's one little grand-stand play! You see, she keeps the pulp exposed in one o' her back teeth. Then a little suck with her tongue over it makes it bleed, on a half-minute notice. That's how she worked the hemorrhage-game with old Bronchial Bill all last winter, before the beak sent him up the river." I stood there, leaning against the soiled shelf across which must have passed so much of the liquid that cheers depressed humanity. But never before, I feel sure, did anything quite so cheering come through that sordid little speak-easy. I was no longer afraid of that malignant-looking trio so contentedly exulting over their ill-gotten victory. "Well, it's a cinch," went on the droning voice, "if The Doc'll only cut out the dope for a couple o' days and your Babbie doesn't get to buckin' over the footboard!" "It ain't Babbie I'm worryin' over," explained old Crotty. "That girl'll do what's expected of her. She's got to. I've wised her up on that. What's worryin' me more is that cuff-shooter who butted in over there on the Island." Still again I could hear Latreille's little snort of open contempt. "Well, you can put that bug out of your head," quietly averred my ex-chauffeur. "You seem to 've forgotten that guy, Zachy. That's the boob we unloaded the Senator's town car on. And that's the Hindoo I framed, away back on Hallow-e'en Night. You remember that, don't you?"