II
Sadie Wimpel met Kestner's glance squarely, without flinching. But in that glance she saw only weariness and unbelief and the listless ennui of the man whose last aim in life has led him into the valley of defeat. He was too old a bird to be duped by a molly-gow.
"Sadie," he solemnly and cynically inquired, "what's the game?"
"Ain't he the sour ol' cynic?" Sadie demanded of the circumambient. Then the pert young face grew suddenly sober, and into the sagacious young eyes came a look not unlike resentment. "There ain't no game in this. All I say is Maura Lambert's right here in Rome, an' I can lead you to her any minute you wantta go."
Kestner pushed the atlas to one side and leaned forward, studying the girl's face. Then his own face grew solemn.
"Sadie, how am I to believe you?"
She answered that question by asking another.
"How close d' you ever get to Maura after ol' Lambert cashed in last year over in New York?"
"That's a question I can't answer."
"Then give me a stab at it. Just to show what I'm jerry to! That girl slipped up to Montreal, an' from Montreal she beat it on to Banff. Then she
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