. Warner, who had caught sight of the party, whispered _sotto
voce_:

"That's Sam Solomon, the famous criminal lawyer. He's just been
indicted by the Grand Jury. Only a miracle can save him from a long
prison term. He's had a box party at the theatre. He usually has a
string of women after him. That's where his money goes--women and wine.
The girls call him a good thing."

Madison looked amused.

"Where are the respectable folk?" he laughed. "Have all the people here
got a police record?"

"Most all," was the laconic rejoinder. "Hello, Elfie--when did you come
in?"

This last exclamation was addressed to a tall, attractive brunette, who
was just pushing past their table in a crowd. She was young and
vivacious looking, and her voluptuous figure was set off to advantage
in an expensive gown. Evidently she knew the lawyer well, for she
greeted him familiarly:

"Hello, Glenn--I didn't see you."

"Alone?" he asked quickly.

"Yes--for a while," she answered airily.

He made a place for her on the bench.

"Sit down here and have something."

"I don't mind if I do," she smiled amiably.

Slipping past the two men into the seat she looked inquiringly at
Madison. The lawyer made introductions.

"This is a friend of mine--John Madison--Miss Elfie St. Clair."
Jocularly he added: "Well known on the metropolitan stage."

Madison smiled and nodded. The girl eyed him with interest. He was a
type of man not often seen in the gay resorts of Manhattan. Impulsively
she burst out:

"Say, Glenn--your friend's a good looker, do you know it? Better take
care, or he'll cut you out with the girls." Turning to Madison, she
demanded: "From the West?"

He nodded.

"Yes--Denver."

"Seeing New York, eh? Great fun, ain't it?"

He shrugged his massive shoulders and made no reply, finding more
amusement in watching the crowd than in gratifying the curiosity of
this chatterbox. She turned to Warner.

"Got a grouch, ain't he?"

Warner laughed.

"Oh--that's his manner. Don't mind him." Turning the conversation, he
demanded: "What's new?"

The girl glanced all around the restaurant, as she answered:

"Oh, the same old thing! In feather one week--broke the next. You know
how it is."

"I thought you were playing."

"So I was, but the show busted. It was a bully part, and I spent $150
on dresses. All I got was two weeks' salary. When the dresses will be
paid for, the Lord only knows."

Elfie St. Clair was a typical Tender