It appeared a place where they were not likely to be interrupted, and
motioning to the man, he wheeled abruptly and started for it.

A few minutes later found them seated in the shabby back room; a number
of faded sporting pictures adorned the wall; one--how John Steele
started!--showed the 'Frisco Pet in a favorite attitude. Absorbed in
studying it, he hardly heard the proprietor of the place, and it was Joe
who first answered him; he had the honor of being asked there by this
gentleman, and--he regarded John Steele expectantly.

Steele spoke now; his dark eyes shone strangely; a sardonic expression
lurked there. The proprietor could bring his companion a steak, if he
had one. Large or small?--large--with an enigmatical smile.

The "hexibition styke" in the window; would that do, queried the
proprietor, displaying it.

Would it? the eyes of the erstwhile dandy of the east side asked of John
Steele; that gentleman only answered with a nod, and the supplemental
information that he would take "half a dozen natives himself." The
proprietor bustled out; from an opposite corner of the room, the only
other occupant regarded with casual curiosity the two ill-assorted
figures. Tall, florid, Amazonian, this third person represented a fair
example of the London grisette, the _petite dame_ who is not very
petite, of its thoroughfares. Setting down a pewter pot fit for a
guardsman, she rose and sauntered toward the door; stopping there, with
one hand on her hip, she looked back.

"Ever see 'im?" she observed, nodding her bonnet at the portrait.
"Noticed you appeared hinterested, as if you 'ad!"