"Sure, sorr," said she, in a most unexpected brogue.

"Well, I've got 'em all," said Orde, as soon as the waitress had
gone with the order. "But the best stroke of business you'd never
guess. I roped in Heinzman."

"Good!" approved Newmark briefly.

"It was really pretty decent of the little Dutchman. He agreed to
let us put up our stock as security. Of course, that security is
good only if we win out; and if we win out, why, then he'll get his
logs, so he won't have any use for security. So it's just one way
of beating the devil around the bush. He evidently wanted to give
us the business, but he hated like the devil to pass up his rules--
you know how those old shellbacks are."

"H'm, yes," said Newmark.

The waitress sailed in through a violently kicked swinging door,
bearing aloft a tin tray heaped perilously. She slanted around a
corner in graceful opposition to the centrifugal, brought the tray
to port on a sort of landing stage by a pillar, and began
energetically to distribute small "iron-ware" dishes, each
containing a dab of something. When the clash of arrival had died,
Orde went on:

"I got into your department a little, too."

"How's that?" asked Newmark, spearing a baked potato. "Heinzman