So as she crept toward the hall-door she did so with a series of movements that were feline in their noiselessness. Then she stood there, with one hand against the door-frame, listening. A moment later, as she advanced her head about the corner of that door-frame, the movement was as cautious as the blink of a gopher from its sand-knoll.
"For the love o' Mike!" she softly murmured.
For she at last realized, as she stared toward the front of the house, why Keudell was not for the moment interested in her.
That blond giant, she could see, was otherwise engaged. He was engaged in holding down on the carpeted floor the still struggling figure of the man who called himself Dorgan. Where the latter had reappeared from, Sadie could not even guess. But she could see, as she ventured a second view, that he was plainly much the worse for wear. He was, however, still struggling fiercely if hopelessly against his stronger opponent, who apparently had witnessed his flight toward the house-door and had taken prompt measures to intercept it.
Yet in neither of these combatants did the watching woman evince any prolonged interest. She felt
