“Meet me, eh?” Sadie’s eyes took on a sinister squint. “Why does he want to meet me?”
“He’ll tell you,” Moll Damon returned. “I’m not wise. That is, only wise to—whisper!”
She leaned nearer to her companion and spoke with lowered voice, but her sharp aspirates reached the ears of the listening detective.
“It’s about the trick that was turned last night.”
Sadie Badger gazed at her without a change of countenance.
“What trick is that?” she demanded. “Come across plainly. I don’t get you.”
“You don’t, eh?” Moll frowned. “Tell that to the marines.”
“Tell it to whom you like,” Sadie retorted. “It’s all one to me.”
“Well, whether you get me, Sadie, or not, the gent wants to meet you,” Moll insisted. “What do you say?”
Sadie Badger gazed at the curbing for several seconds, evidently sizing up the significance of what she had heard, and the consequences involved in whatever course she might shape.