man, in case any of us should miss him. Dorgan's a mechanic, remember, and he's about thirty years old. He's wide-shouldered and rather short, with curly black hair, cut close. His ears stick out a little, and one of them is mushroomed, for he worked in the prize-ring for a couple of winters. Then—"
"Wait!" suddenly announced Sadie. The faint purr of a desk-buzzer had sounded behind her black-draped table. She bent her head and watched the quick play of the vari-colored electric globes of her tiny annunciator.
"Hully gee," she murmured, as she hid away the end of her cigarette, "here's a hob-nail comin' for a readin'. And Zuleika's pushin' the double-green to say he's a guy worth watchin'!"
Wilsnach, who was already on his feet, circled about the table and lifted the black velvet drapery of the cabinet.
"I'll wait here until your man goes," he quietly announced.
Sadie, reverting to her posture of esoteric impassivity, intoned a solemn "Ong-tray-voo!" in answer to the questioning knock on the door.
That door promptly opened and a man stepped into the room. He carried his hat in his hand, and
