roguery, but by violence. They hide in the crannies of the
underworld; politics is their protection. At election times they
do service for men high in authority; betweenwhiles they thrive on
the bickerings and feuds among the despoilers. Jim knew these
gunmen well; he had no wish to know them worse.

"I can't promise anything definite when she's sore on me," he
declared.

"Oh yes, you can. She'll marry to please your mother and father,
and she'll fix them up the first thing. Get them to agree to split
their share, and I'll take a hand. If it doesn't go through
there's no harm done."

"I don't see how you're going to frame a marriage--and yet she
won't stand for anything else."

"You'll have to help, of course, and so will your mother. I've a
hunch that we can handle Wharton all right--through booze. A man
can be made to marry anybody if he's drunk enough."

"He's about ready to ask her--SHE'S the one to fix. She hates men,
though, and that Merkle story made her crazy."

"Sore, eh?"

"She talked the Dutch route--thinks her good name is gone, and
regards every man as a hyena."

Melcher pondered for several moments. "I think I know Lorelei