Suddenly Jock stopped eating. His eyes were on the door. "There's that
fathead now," he said, excitedly. "The nerve of him! He's coming over
here."
Ed Meyers was waddling toward them with the quick light step of the
fat man. His pink, full-jowled face was glowing. His eyes were bright
as a boy's. He stopped at their table and paused for one dramatic
moment.
"So, me beauty, you two were in cahoots, huh? That's the second low-
down deal you've handed me. I haven't forgotten that trick you turned
with Nussbaum at DeKalb. Never mind, little girl. I'll get back at you
yet."
He nodded a contemptuous head in Jock's direction. "Carrying a
packer?"
[Illustration: "'Come on out of here, and I'll lick the shine off your
shoes, you blue-eyed babe, you!'"]
Emma McChesney wiped her fingers daintily on her napkin, crushed it on
the table, and leaned back in her chair. "Men," she observed,
wonderingly, "are the cussedest creatures. This chap occupied the same
room with you last night and you don't even know his name.
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