a blithe and rubicund old robin. She could see the checkered silk handkerchief as he blew his nose and the keen cockiness of his eye as he turned his thick-necked body slowly about and made a silent yet careful inspection of the room. Then he sat down.
"That's Wallaby Sam! And that makes four o' them!" said the woman watching the dial, sotto voce.
"Should there be more than four?" asked Miss Poole.
"There should be five o' them!"
"Then who is the other?"
"It's Keudell," she whispered back.
"Do you—do you have to wait for him?"
Sadie snorted.
"He's the big wagon!"
"I don't quite understand."
"In plain United States, he's the main squeeze, the whole push! And he's the one I gotta get!"
The situation still seemed to perplex Miss Mabel Poole.
"Then why don't you have the officers step in and arrest these four men, and get the missing one when he comes?"
For the second time Sadie emitted a hoot.
