"Ten thousand. I'm willing enough to split fifty-fifty. This Colorado
job is getting to be expensive, deary. I wouldn't dare draw on you
through the banks."

Miss Donovan had only time to nudge Willis enthusiastically before she
overheard the next plea.

"Celeste, are you trimming me again?"

"Don't be a fool!" came back in subdued tones. "Do you think that
telegram is a fake? My Gawd--that is what I want money for! Moreover,
I should think you would be tickled, Johnnie boy, to get me out of
town--and the price is so low."

In the back booth Willis muttered:

"God, things are going great." Then he bent his ear to sedulous
attention and again he could hear the voice of Cavendish.

"You've got to tell me what you're going to do with the money," it said.

The La Rue woman's answer could not be heard; evidently it was a
whispered one, and therefore of utmost importance. Came a pause, a
clink of glasses, and then a few straggling words filtered over the
partition.

"Isn't that the best way?" Celeste La Rue's voice was easily
recognisable. "Of course it will be a--well, a mere accident, and no
questions asked."