t you write anything in your report. Leave her to me."

"All right! You handle it."

Then Crowley departed and sat down in his room and put into his report a
full statement about Miss Kennard's arrival and actions and his own
activity in regard to her. Crowley had elaborate ideas about the art of
double-crossing everybody, even his associates in the agency. He figured
that it could not hurt anything to give Mern a full report on all
matters; and if there was anything peculiar in Kennard's presence there,
Crowley's assiduity would contrast to his credit and shame Elsham's
negligence. He had frequently made good hits by cajoling fellow
operatives to suppress certain matters which he had then reported to his
advantage with Mern. And Elsham, in this case, was claiming to be in
charge, making him only the watchdog of her safety.

Crowley growled derogatory comments on her temptress qualities when he
peered past the edge of his curtain in the morning and looked down on
Latisan mounting into his jumper seat. The young man did not seem to be
in an amiable or a confident state of mind, and his plain dolor
comforted Crowley somewhat, even though Latisan was going back to the
drive.

The drive master had not been able to see Miss Patsy Jones that morning,
as he had hoped; he had no excuse to hang around the tavern till she did
appear. Brophy served the breakfast; he declared that he was going to
hang on to that table girl if good treatment could prevail, and he was
never going to ask her to wait on early breakfasters.

Crowley got additional comfort out of Latisan's loud proclamation that
he would be down in Adonia again very soon. The drive master seemed to
be striving to draw somebody's attention to that fact. He cast looks
behind him at the upper windows of the tavern when he drove away.

That day, according to the plans he had made in New York, Mr. Crowley
took pains to give himself an occupation in Adonia; loafers who were not
bashful were quizzing him about the nature of his business up there.

The barber had one corner of the village pool room; Crowley made a
trade to occupy another corner. He opened up a case of cheap jewelry and
traded it by day and raffled it evenings; he was not molested in his
sporting propositions, as he called the procedure, after he had arranged
a private talk with the deputy sheriff. Crowley, with his fancy
waistcoat and his tip-tilted hat, fitted the role he was playing. He was
right in the