“Whiskey!” he said, thickly, to the waiter.  “Bring it to me fast.  Don’t you hear?  Whiskey!”

Across the theatre Cherry Malotte had seen him enter and jerk the curtains together.  She arose and went to him, entering without ceremony.

“What’s the matter, boy?” she questioned.

“Ah!  I am glad you came.  Talk to me.”

“Thank you for your few well-chosen remarks,” she laughed.  “Why don’t you ask me to spring some good, original jokes?  You look like the finish to a six-day go-as-you please.  What’s up?”

She talked to him for a moment until the waiter entered, then, when she saw what he bore, she snatched the glass from the tray and poured the whiskey on the floor.  Glenister was on his feet and had her by the wrist.

“What do you mean?” he said, roughly.

“It’s whiskey, boy,” she cried, “and you don’t drink.”

“Of course it’s whiskey.  Bring me another,” he shouted at the attendant.

“What’s the matter?” Cherry insisted.  “I never saw you act so.  You know you don’t drink.  I won’t let you.  It’s booze—­booze, I tell you, fit for fools and brawlers.  Don’t drink it, Roy.  Are you in trouble?”

“I say I’m thirsty—­and I will have it!  How do you know what it is to smoulder inside, and feel your veins burn dry?”

“It’s something about that girl,” the woman said, with quiet conviction.  “She’s double-crossed you.”

“Well, so she has—­but what of it?  I’m thirsty.  She’s going to marry McNamara.  I’ve been a fool.”  He ground his teeth and reached for the drink with which the boy had returned.

“McNamara is a crook, but he’s a man, and he never drank a drop in his life.”  The girl said it, casually, evenly, but the other stopped the glass half-way to his lips.

“Well, what of it?  Goon.  You’re good at W. C. T. U. talk.  Virtue becomes you.”

She flushed, but continued, “It simply occurred to me that if you aren’t strong enough to handle your own throat, you’re not strong enough to beat a man who has mastered his.”

Glenister looked at the whiskey a moment, then set it back on the tray.

“Bring two lemonades,” he said, and with a laugh which was half a sob Cherry Malotte leaned forward and kissed him.

“You’re too good a man to drink.  Now, tell me all about it.”

“Oh, it’s too long!  I’ve just learned that the girl is in, hand and glove, with the Judge and McNamara—­that’s all.  She’s an advance agent—­their lookout.  She brought in their instructions to Struve and persuaded Dex and me to let them jump our claim.  She got us to trust in the law and in her uncle.  Yes, she hypnotized my property out of me and gave it to her lover, this ward politician.  Oh, she’s smooth, with all her innocence!  Why, when she smiles she makes you glad and good and warm, and her eyes are as honest and clear as a mountain pool, but she’s wrong—­she’s wrong—­and—­great God! how I love her!” He dropped his face into his hands.