“I’ll see that you’re paid for this find,” said she.
“I don’t want a penny. I only want ter get ahead of George Richmond and his chum, Claude Lamont, the young sport. They’re into the biggest game of their lives, but we’ll balk ’em all the same, Margie.”
The girl expressed the hope that it would turn out thus, and in a short time she was in another part of the city.
She wanted to avoid the man into whose hands she had fallen at the Trocadero. She was now confident that this personage was Claude Lamont himself, and she had seen enough of his villainy.
Margie Marne carried the precious package home, where she hid it carefully, believing that no human eye could find it, and was satisfied.
Night was coming on, and she quitted her humble lodgings, with her hood pulled over her face so as to hide it.
She had a visit to make, and soon she reached the room occupied by Carter.
Her raps were not answered, and she looked disappointed.
When she again reached the street the lamps had been lit, and the girl looked all about her.
Thinking of the package she started home, but on a corner not far from Carter’s rooms a hand fell upon her arm.