bly full of his favorite liquor, whisky, glowered
on the crowd with as near an aspect of good nature as he was able to
muster. Druce, who knew his own success in business was due to alertness
of mind and who was almost an ascetic in the matter of drink, was no less
at peace with the world.

"Money in that crowd," rumbled the huge Anson.

"Yes," replied Druce, "business is mighty good."

"How about our lease?"

"The blow-off comes tonight."

"You're sure of your plans?"

"I am, if young Boland shows up."

"Well, he'll be here?"

"Yes, I wrote him an anonymous letter telling him if he wanted to see his
girl, he could find her singing at the Cafe Sinister."

"That ought to fetch him. How about the old man?"

"He sent me word today that he'd be here and that he'd dropped hints to
the son he'd heard some bad stuff about the girl."

"You haven't talked to him?"

"No; I got my orders. I stayed away."

"How about the Welcome kid you married?"

"She's down and out. I sent one of our cappers early in the week to look
her up. Somebody'd slipped her a lone five dollar bill. She woke up
yesterday morning broke. I don't know where she's eating, but I've sent
word through the district to keep her hungry. She'll be in tonight."

Druce spoke with indifference, but the truth was that he was not at all
sure that Elsie Welcome would return. He had begun to respect the girl's
strength of character. He had scarcely finished his sentence when he gave
a gasp of relief.

"Ah-h!" he muttered.

"What's that?" demanded Anson.

"Here she comes now."

As they looked down through the drinking room they saw the slender figure
of a girl approaching. She came slowly, supporting her wavering steps
with the backs of the revelers' chairs. Her face was pale and desperately
haggard. Several of the men as she passed clutched at her skirts and
shouted invitations at her. She tore herself away from them and made
straight for the place where Druce and Anson were standing. For a moment,
Druce almost felt sorry for her.

"You're back, kid?" he said softly.

"Yes," replied the girl, fiercely.

"You're going to be good?"

Elsie burst out sobbing. It was her last struggle.

"Come now, Elsie," Druce spoke almost tenderly. "Don't snivel."

"Martin," the girl gasped appealingly. "O, my God! Be kind to me."

"Don't worry about me, girlie. You forget that Sunday school stuff and
you'll get along with me fine. You're hungry, aren't you, ki