For one fraction of a second Keudell looked about at her. But he still kept the revolver pointed at Dorgan's ribs.
"I intend to have them!"
"Then put that gun down and yuh'll git 'em!"
"Where are they?"
"In that man's pocket!"
"Then come and take them out of his pocket! And come quick!"
For one brief second Sadie Wimpel hesitated. But it was a second and no more, for she had decided on her plan and intended to carry it through. She rounded the table and stepped close to the rebellious-eyed Dorgan. She even essayed a reproving jerk of his coat lapel.
"Can't yuh see the jig's up?" she demanded. For time was the one thing for which she was still fighting.
"Hand over those papers!" repeated Keudell. And Sadie knew it was not a moment for trifling.
She slipped a hand down inside Dorgan's coat, unbuttoned the pocket-flap, and drew out the yellow manila envelope which he had stored away there. There was something more than reproof in Dorgan's eye as she did so; there was blind revolt and
