of a haul, eh, old
pal--the boobs came to it as though they couldn't get enough."

A sudden and reminiscent scowl clouded the Flopper's face. He stepped to
the table, reached his hand into his shirt, and flung down a single
one-dollar bill and a few coins.

"Dere's de haul, Harry--help yerself"--his invitation was a snarl.

Pale Face Harry had followed to the table. He looked first at the money,
then at the Flopper--and a tinge of red dyed his cheek. He coughed
before he spoke.

"Y'ain't going to stall on _me_, Flopper, are you?" he demanded, in an
ominous monotone.

"Stall!"--the word came away in a roar too genuine to leave any doubt of
the Flopper's sincerity, or the turbulent state of the Flopper's soul.
"Stall nothin'! De driver held me up fer some of it, an' de cop pinched
de rest."

"And you the king of Floppers!" breathed Pale Face Harry sadly. "D'ye
hear that, Helena? Come over here and listen. Go ahead, Flopper, tell us
about it."

Helena rose from the couch and came over to the table.

"Poor Flopper!" said she sweetly.

"Shut up!" snapped the Flopper savagely.

"Go on," prompted Pale Face Harry. "Go on, Flopper--tell us about it."

"I told you, ain't I?" growled the Flopper. "De driver called a divvy
wid de cop comin', an I had ter shell--an' wot he left de cop pinched.
Dat's all"--the Flopper's mouth was working again with the rage that
burned within him.

Pale Face Harry, with pointed forefinger, gingerly and facetiously laid
the coins out in a row on the table.

"And you the king of Floppers!" he murmured softly. "It's a wonder you
didn't let the Salvation Army get the rest away from you on the way
along!"

Helena laughed--but the Flopper didn't. He stepped close to Pale Face
Harry, and shoved his face within an inch of the other's.

"You close yer jaw," he snarled, "or I'll make yer map look like wot's
goin' ter happen ter dat cross-eyed snitch of a guy dat did me--him an'
de harness bull, when I--" The Flopper stopped abruptly, and edged away
from Pale Face Harry. "Hullo, Doc," he said meekly. "I didn't hear youse
comin' in."

A man, fair-haired, broad-shouldered, immaculate in well-tailored
tweeds, reliant in poise, leaned nonchalantly against the door--inside
the room. He was young, not more than twenty-eight, with clean-shaven,
pleasant, open face--a handsome face, marred only to the close observer
by the wrinkles beginning to pucker around his eyes, and a slight,
scarcely discer