she met her old friend, Inky Davis the wire-tapper. I shadowed her twice to Mdlle. Baby's. Then I got a girl planted inside, and found Sadie was a regular visitor. She lays her bets with considerable judgment. Sometimes she wins, and sometimes she loses. But she doesn't worry over losing. She doesn't need to. For every bill she pays out in that poolroom is one of Maura Lambert's counterfeits!"
"But this doesn't sound like Lambert's procedure."
"It isn't his procedure as a rule. But I suppose he's got to pay running expenses until he effects his coup. So he jumped at the quickest and safest way of uttering his bad paper. Sadie is his layer out. She unloads big denominations, breaks them and gets good money in return. Those counterfeits will fool every one until they get in expert hands at the banks, and even there they may pass muster for a while. And in the meantime, Sadie will move on."
"But how about Lambert himself?"
"We may as well remember, Wilsnach, there's no such man as Lambert. Names never count for very much in the criminal world. Our man's at present known as Hardman, a slight variation of his old alias of Hartman. I've been watching Hardman for a day and a half, every move he makes in the open. He's posing as a Southerner, a horse breeder from Virginia with a frock-coat and a wide-brimmed black hat—you know the get-up! Three hours ago Morello met him in a downtown hotel. An hour later our Italian friend bought a ticket for Washington, and I'm having him tailed to see just what his business might be in
