of course," her voice hardening. "Naturally I feel that I
should share in your good fortune. But the amount I want now, and must
have to-night--to-night, John Cavendish--is not altogether for myself.
I've heard from the West."

"My God! Has he been located?"

"Yes, and is safe for the present. Here, read this telegram. It's not
very clear, but Beaton wants money and asks me to bring it."

"You? Why does he need you?"

"Lack of nerve, I guess; he's out of his element in that country. If
it was the Bowery he'd do this sort of job better. Anyhow, I'm going,
and I want a roll. We can't either of us afford to lie down now."

Cavendish half smothered an oath.

"Money," he ejaculated fiercely. "That is all I hear. Enright has
held me up something fierce, and you never let me alone. Suppose I say
I haven't got it."

"Why, then, I'd laugh at you, that's ail. You may not love me any
more, my dear, but surely you have no occasion to consider me a fool.
I endeavour to keep posted on what the court is doing in our case; I am
naturally interested, you know. You were at the Commercial National
Bank this afternoon."

"How the devil did you know that?"

"I play my cards safe," she laughed mirthlessly. "I could even tell
you the size of your check, and that the money is still on your person.
You intended to place it in a safe-deposit box and keep it hidden for
your own use."

"You hellion, you!" Cavendish's voice rose high, then later Miss
Donovan heard him say more softly: "How much do you want?"

"Ten thousand. I'm willing enough to split fifty-fifty. This Colorado
job is getting to be expensive, deary. I wouldn't dare draw on you
through the banks."

Miss Donovan had only time to nudge Willis enthusiastically before she
overheard the next plea.

"Celeste, are you trimming me again?"

"Don't be a fool!" came back in subdued tones. "Do you think that
telegram is a fake? My Gawd--that is what I want money for! Moreover,
I should think you would be tickled, Johnnie boy, to get me out of
town--and the price is so low."

In the back booth Willis muttered:

"God, things are going great." Then he bent his ear to sedulous
attention and again he could hear the voice of Cavendish.

"You've got to tell me what you're going to do with the money," it said.

The La Rue woman's answer could not be heard; evidently it was a
whispered one, and therefore of utmost importance. Came a pause, a
clink of glasse