d complexion and drugged hair. She's
brisk and businesslike.

"If you've come to beg me to let up on that sneaking English butler,"
says she, "you needn't waste any more breath. He's going to do time for
this job."

"But suppose he could be coaxed into tellin' where the loot was?" says
I.

"He's had the third degree good and strong," says she. "The boys told me
so. He won't squeal. Donahue says he ain't right in his head. Anyway, he
goes up."

"He's leavin' a little girl," I puts in, "without anyone to look after
her."

"Most crooks do," says she, sniffin'.

"But if you could get the wad back?" says I.

"All of it?" says she quick.

"Every bean," says I.

She leans forward, starin' at me hard and eager. "He'll tell, then?"
says she.

"Said he would," says I, "providin' him and the little girl could be
shipped to Australia."

She chews that over a minute. "That's cheap enough," says she. "I could
claim I'd remembered putting the money somewhere and forgotten. Young
man, it's a bargain. I'll have my lawyer go down and----"

"Say," I breaks in, "why fat up a lawyer? Let's settle this between you
and me."

"But how?" says she.

"Just a minute," says I, lookin' her full in the eyes. "I'm playin' you
to give Allston a square deal, you know."

"You can bank on that," says she. "Connie Murtha's word was always as
good as government bonds. And if you can wish back that twenty thousand,
I'll put a quick crimp in this prosecution."

"What could be fairer than that?" says I. "I'll be back in an hour."

It was only forty-five minutes, in fact; but Mrs. Connie was watchin'
for me.

"Let's have a pair of scissors," says I, as I sheds my overcoat and
produced from under one arm, where it had been buttoned up snug and
tight, about the worst-lookin' doll you ever saw. I hadn't figured on
Mrs. Murtha goin' huffy so sudden, either.

"You fresh young shrimp you!" she blazes out. "What's that?"

"This is Arabella," says I. "She's sufferin' from a bad case of
undigested securities, and I got to amputate."

She stands by watchin' the operation suspicious and ready to lam me one
on the ear, I expect. But on the way down I'd sounded Arabella's chest,
and I was backin' my guess. When I found the coarse stitchin' done with
heavy black thread I chuckles.

"More or less the worse for wear, Arabella, eh?" says I. "But how that
youngster did hang onto her! Little Helma Allston, you know. And me
offerin' to swap a brand-