He glared at the flap through which she had disappeared. A
cunning, malevolent expression came into his pop-eyes.
"Sell out, will you?" he muttered. "I'll block that game. I'll sell
out to him myself. That's what he wants."
He lifted the sidewall and passed out into the open air, directing his
footsteps toward the ticket-wagon. Colonel Grand was leaving it as he
came up.
"Hello, Brad," he said quite genially. "If I was a bit rough awhile
ago, I apolo--"
"Say, I want to talk privately with you, right away. I've got a
proposition to make. It's final, too,--and it's friendly, so don't
look as if you're going to pull a gun on me. Come on to the hotel. Oh,
I'm not as drunk as you think!"
"Mrs. Braddock expects me to escort her to the hotel--"
"No, she don't," rasped the other. "She's all right. Leave her alone.
Are you coming?"
Colonel Grand was struck by the man's behavior. He shrewdly saw that
something vital was in the air.
"All right," he said. "I'll go with you."
They were soon closeted in the room back of the hotel bar, a bottle
between them on the table. The door was locked.
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