He felt a hand touch the back of his chair, and then a woman who had just hurried into the place, bent between him and Sloan, to whom she whispered, yet not so low but that Chick heard her:
“Quit the game, Slugger. I’ve fixed it.”
Sloan turned his shifty gray eyes upon her, but did not stir from his chair. The gambler’s passion was the strongest in his evil nature.
“Will she see him?” he asked, scarce above his breath.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“As soon as he can get there.”
“Her crib, Moll?”
“Yes. Get a move on,” Moll Damon whispered impatiently. “It’s more important than this piking business. Go and send him up there. You know where to find him.”
Sloan pushed his chips toward the dealer to be cashed.