Wanted to know when he might be back."
"What sort of a lookin' gent was he?" asked Vic, and his voice was sharp.
"Him? Oh, he looked like a tenderfoot to me. Terrible polite, though, and
he had a voice that wasn't hardly rougher'n a girl's. Seemed like he was
sort of embarrassed jest talkin' to me." She smiled at the thought, but
Gregg was on his feet now, his hands on the shoulders of Mrs. Sommers as
though he would try to shake information from her loose bulk.
"Look quick, now," he said. "Where did you send him?"
"How you talk! Why, where should I send him? I told him like as not
Ronicky and Sliver and Gus would be down to Lorrimer's--"
The groan of Vic made her stop with a gasp.
"What did be look like?"
Mrs. Sommers was very sober. Her smile congealed.
"Black hair, and young, and good-lookin', and b-b-brown eyes, and--"
"God!"
"Vic," cried Betty Neal, "what is it!" She looked around her in terror.
"It's Barry."
He turned towards the door, and then stopped, in an agony of indecision.
Betty Neal was before him, blocking the way with her arms outstretched.
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