"That was Belle Cora, who keeps that bawdy house up town," Nesbitt
volunteered.
"Yes," said Broderick musingly, "she seemes to take it hard."
"She's mad about the fellow," Nesbitt waved a parting salutation and
walked toward the Bulletin office.
Broderick turned homeward, thinking of the two dark figures he had
passed on Clay street where the killing had taken place. Perchance if he
had stopped as he was minded, the tragedy might have been averted.
Nobody seemed to know just how it came about. The thing was most
unfortunate politically. King would stir up a hornet's nest of public
opinion. Broderick reached his lodgings and at once retired. His sleep
was fitful. He dreamed that Alice Windham and Sheriff Scannell were
fighting for his soul.
In the morning he met Benito on the plaza and the two encountered
Colonel E.D. Baker.
"I hear you're Cora's counsel," said Benito with a touch of disapproval.
Baker looked at the young man over his spectacles. He was a big
impressive man whose appearance as well as his words swayed juries. He
commanded large fees. It was to Broderick rather than Benito that he
made reply.
"That Belle woman--she calls herself Mrs.
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