"Eddie Fontaine's crowd."
"Copper'll blow up higher than a kite!"
"—if Slade goes too."
"They say there's a line formed in front of the Atlantic."
In his progress he encountered Jack Lindabury, lank and broad-shouldered, with the magnificent shell of a head that might have been set on the shoulders of a Gladstone. They shook hands with cordiality.
"Devil of a mess about Majendie," said Lindabury.
"Are you hit?"
"Of course; Eddie Fontaine's had us all in on his tip. Some of the crowd are liable to be wiped out. They tell me Bo Lynch had plunged every cent in the world."
"Shouldn't wonder," said Beecher, reflecting. "Is he here?"
"Sure; he's the bartender," said Lindabury.