so, and he's got this whip stuff down too strong. You know I
think he's act'ally crazy about beatin' them girls, and makin' them
agree to go wherever we send 'em. He takes too much fun out of it, and
when he welts 'em up it lowers the value. He'll be up this afternoon.
We must have him ease it up a bit."

"Oh, well, he's young, ye know," said Pop. "Boys will be boys, and
some of 'em's rough once in a while. I was a boy myself once." And he
pulled his white mustache vigorously as he smiled at himself in the
large hall mirror.

"You'd better be off down to the station again, Pop," said Madame
Blanche. "They're going to send over two Swedish girls from Molloy's
in the Bronx this afternoon, and then put 'em on through to St. Paul.
I've got a friend out there who wants 'em to visit her. Then Baxter
telephoned me that he had a little surprise for me, later to-day. He's
been quiet lately, and it's about time, or he'll have to get a job in
the chorus again to pay his manicure bills."

Pop took his departure, and, as Sallie came down the stairs with a
smile of duty done, Madame Blanche could hear muffled screams from
above.

"Where is she, Sallie?"

"She's in de receibin' room, Madame. Jes' let 'er yowl. It'll do her
good. I done' tol' er to save her breaf, but she is extravagant. Wait
ontil Marse Shepard swings dat whip. She'll have sompen to sing about!"

And Sallie went about her duties--to put out the empty beer bottles for
the brewery man and to give the prize Pomeranian poodle his morning
bath.

Madame Blanche retired to her cosy parlor, where, beneath the staring
eyes of her late husband's crayon portrait, and amused by the squawking
of her parrot, she could forget the cares of her profession in the
latest popular problem novel.

On the floor above a miserable, weeping country lassie was beating her
hands against the thick door of the windowless dark room until they
were bruised and bleeding.

She sank to her knees, praying for help, as she had been taught to do
in her simple life back in the country town.

But her prayers seemed to avail her naught, and she finally sank,
swooning, with her head against the cruel barrier. Back in the
railroad station, Percy and his kind-faced assistant, Pop, were
prospecting for another recruit.

CHAPTER XI

THE POISONED NEEDLE

That afternoon Burke improved his time, during a two-hour respite, to
hunt for a birthday present for Mary.

Manlike, he