"What's that?" she demanded.
For clearly to her now came the sound of contending voices from the hall without. She knew, as she listened, that one of those voices was Kestner's, and a great wave of relief sped through her tired body. There was still a chance, she felt, if only the cards could be played right.
But she was puzzled by the fact that Kestner's voice was rising high and angry above the protesting tones of the negress. She was still worrying over this discovery when the door opened and Kestner himself strode into the room. But it was a Kestner in no way like the immaculate Kestner of old. His wet hat was pulled down over his eyes, and he carried a newspaper in his hand. Sadie, with her heart in her mouth, tried to arrest him with a warning glance. But the newcomer deliberately ignored both Dorgan and the challenging eye of Dorgan which studied him from under its turban-llke bandage. He walked straight to the table where Sadie Wimpel sat.
"So you call yourself a clairvoyant!" he shouted, and still Sadie could not comprehend the source of his indignation. She gestured to him for caution, for silence, but he ignored the movement.
