This is once you have got in bad, Mr.Patrick Enright, of New York." The lawyer's face whitened, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair.
"You--you know me ?" "By reputation only," and Westcott bowed, "but that is scarcely to your credit.

I know this, however, that for various reasons you possess no desire to advertise your presence in Haskell.

It would be rather a difficult matter to explain back in the city just what you were doing out here in such intimate association with a chorus girl and a Bowery gunman, let alone our immaculate friend, Lacy, yonder.

The courts, I believe, have not yet distributed the Cavendish money." Enright's mouth was open, but no sound came from his lips; he seemed to be gasping for breath.
"I merely mention this," went on Westcott slowly, "to help you grasp the situation.

We have a rough, rude way of handling such matters out here.