rs out of his tiny, bright
eyes.

"Do anything in London?" inquired Stull.

"No."

"Who was you working for?"

"A jock and a swell skirt. But Scotland Yard got next and chased the
main guy over the water."

"What was your lay?"

"Same thing. I dealt for the jock and the skirt trimmed the squabs."

"Anybody holler?"

"Aw--the kind we squeezed was too high up to holler. Them young lords
take their medicine like they wanted it. They ain't like the home
bunch that is named after swell hotels."

After a silence he looked up at Brandes:

"What ever become of Minna Minti?" he asked.

Brandes' heavy features remained stolid.

"She got her divorce, didn't she?" insisted Curfoot.

"Yes."

"Alimony?"

"No. She didn't ask any."

"How about Venem?"

Brandes remained silent, but Stull said:

"I guess she chucked him. She wouldn't stand for that snake. I got to
hand it to her; she ain't that kind."

"What kind is she?"

"I tell you I got to hand it to her. I can't complain of her. She
acted white all right until Venem stirred her up. Eddie's got himself
to blame; he got in wrong and Venem had him followed and showed him up
to Minna."

"You got tired of her, didn't you?" said Curfoot to Brandes. But Stull
answered for him again:

"Like any man, Eddie needed a vacation now and then. But no skirt
understands."

Brandes said slowly:

"I'll live to fix Minna yet."

"What fixed you," snapped Stull, "was that there Brookhollow
stuff----"

"Can it!" retorted Brandes, turning a deep red.

"Aw--don't hand me the true-love stuff, Eddie! If you'd meant it with
that little haymaker you'd have respected her----"

Brandes' large face became crimson with rage:

"You say another word about her and I'll push your block off--you
little dough-faced kike!"

Stull shrugged and presently whispered to Curfoot:

"That's the play he always makes. I've waited two years, but he won't
ring down on the love stuff. I guess he was hit hard that trip. It
took a little red-headed, freckled country girl to stop him. But it
was comin' to Eddie Brandes, and it certainly looks like it was there
to stay a while."

"He's still stuck on her?"

"I guess she's still the fly paper," nodded Stull.

Suddenly Brandes turned on Stull such a look of concentrated hatred
that the little gambler's pallid features stiffened with surprise:

"Ben," said Brandes in a low voice, which was too indistinct for
Neeland to catch, "I'll tell you