CHAPTER ELEVEN
SADIE WIMPEL'S progress up Broadway that morning was much brusker than the movements of most blacksnakes. She hurried north as far as Forty-second Street, made sure that she was not being followed and then dipped into the Subway. There she caught an express for East Fourteenth Street.
Ascending to the street, she hurried still farther eastward and then turned south. When she came to the "family entrance" of a corner saloon she stepped in through the faded swing door, looked about, and seated herself at one of the little round tables in the empty room. A bartender in his shirtsleeves presented himself.
"Gimme a long beer," commanded the girl.
When the bartender returned with this, however, she viewed its foaming collar with indifference.
"Where's Tim?" she demanded.
231
