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Broderick did not know him, but he recognized at his side the well-groomed figure of Charles Cora, gambler and dandy. "Wancha t'meet Charley," said the introducer, unsteadily, to Richardson. "Bes' li'l man ever lived." Richardson held out his hand a bit reluctantly. Cora's sort were somewhat declassé. "Have a drink?" he invited. Broderick left them together.
"I want an auger and a wooden plug the same size. Get 'em to me without anybody knowing it." The manager of the C.N. Morse & Company Northern Stores presently shoved across the counter to him a gunny-sack with a feed of oats. "Want it charged to the Force, I reckon?" "Yes." "Say, constable, I wancha to look at these moccasins I'm orderin' for the Inspector. Is this what he wants? Or isn't it?"
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