And I depend on this windfall to marry!" "So do I, Dennis," sadly smiled Witherspoon.

"Go in; I'll do your bidding.

Count on the extradition papers and the money." In ten minutes the armorer's room was dark.

"Not a bad evening's work," said the notary, as he pocketed a hundred-dollar bill, "and another one of those 'exquisitely executed engravings' for to-morrow!" Long before Alice Worthington had lifted her stately head from her pillow the next morning, the astonished Dennis McNerney was rubbing his eyes before the location of the Valkyrie Saloon.

He had stolen over to Brooklyn with the "early birds." The streets were as yet unpeopled when he drew the drowsy officer on the beat into the side room of the saloon where once Mr.August Meyer presided in the evening.
The two uniformed giants smacked their lips over the morning Manhattan cocktail.
"Now, that's what I call a cocktail," said Officer Hogan, as he ordered up (on a complimentary basis) the Havanas.