"I've heard of Mr. Barry Tompkins," said Bagley. "He'd do all right. But
if he's a friend of Davenport's--"
"He isn't a friend," corrected Larcher. "He met him once or twice in my
company for a few minutes at a time."
"But he's evidently your friend, and probably knows you're Davenport's
friend," rejoined Bagley to Larcher.
"I hadn't thought of that," said Turl. "I only meant I was willing to
undergo inspection by one of Davenport's acquaintances, while you told
the story. If you object to Mr. Tompkins, there will doubtless be some
other lawyer at the place Larcher speaks of."
"All right; I'll cover your money quick enough," said Bagley, doing so.
"I guess we'll find a lawyer to suit in that crowd. I know the place
you mean."
Larcher and Bagley waited, while Turl went upstairs for his things. When
he returned, ready to go out, the three faced the blizzard together. The
snowfall had waned; the flakes were now few, and came down gently; but
the white mass, little trodden in that part of the city since nightfall,
was so thick that the feet sank deep at every step. The labor of walking,
and the cold, kept the party silent till they reached the place where
Larcher had sought out Barry Tompkins the night he received Edna's first
orders about Murray Davenport. When they opened the basement door to
enter, the burst of many voices betokened a scene in great contrast to
the snowy night at their backs. A few steps through a small hallway led
them into this scene,--the tobacco-smoky room, full of loudly talking
people, who sat at tables whereon appeared great variety of bottles and
glasses.
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