decent girl into a dump like that!" she announced, with a parade of anger.
He sat solemnly cogitating this accusation.
"D'you suppose I thought Kendall was going to pull any of that strong-arm stuff?"
"Who's Kendall?" she demanded. The more they talked, she began to realize, the wider would be her margin of safety. And Kestner, she remembered, ought to be there at any moment.
"Kendall's the man we tried to do business with—the big blond stiff with the saber-marks on the cheek!"
So Kendall, Sadie inwardly remarked, was another name for Keudell. And Keudell rather interested her, even while he intimidated her. He was of a type altogether different to Dorgan. Keudell would be tricky, and apt to keep you guessing, with that cool eye which never put you wise to when he was bluffing and when he was beaten. And she was glad it was Dorgan, and not Keudell, that she had to combat.
"He certainly put a few marks on me!" declared the irate-eyed young woman.
Dorgan sniffed.
"You can't hold a candle to what I got," he an-
