counting his Judas gains, while he tried to forget Fritz Braun's
lightning change.

That dapper gentleman, stepping into a closet, passed swiftly
through the door from the Valkyrie into 192 Layte Street. His
hidden pool-room, gambling den and exchange for soul and body was
temporarily forgotten by "Mr. August Meyer," owner of the peerless
"Valkyrie Saloon."

"I'll get a carriage and drive over to Irma," he growled. "She must
never cross the river again. We must lead him over here; but how?
Perhaps the pretty devil can help me. I must throw Wade off the
track. Irma can fool this young greenhorn. The job must be done
over there. For a fortune, for his life or mine; and he must be
teased along till the July holidays."

Then Mr. August Meyer of Brooklyn proceeded to leisurely array
himself as a clubman of fashion.






CHAPTER V.

BREAKERS AHEAD! CHECKMATE! MR. ARTHUR FERRIS WORKS IN THE DARK.