He laughed again--a sort of unnatural, desperate indifference to everything falling upon him.

What did it matter, the moment or two it would take to read the letter?
He looked around him.

He was on the corner in front of the Palace Saloon, and, turning abruptly, he stepped in through the swinging doors.

As Larry the Bat, he knew the place well.

At the rear of the barroom and along the side of the wall were some half dozen little stalls, partitioned off from each other.