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Malay put the money in this safe here, and that's what Slimmy was after for a starter. I told Slimmy I was all through that I was goin' straight. He wouldn't believe me. I guess you don't. I guess nobody will. I got a record that's mabbe too black to live down, and oh, well, what's the use! I meant to live decent, but I guess any chance I had is gone now." His voice choked.
"Wot fer, Slimmy?" he inquired again, wiggling his cigarette butt on his tongue tip. "Wot'd he do dat fer?" "How de hell do youse suppose I knows!" demanded the Magpie, politely scornful. "Dat's his business dat ain't wot's worryin' me!" "No sure, it ain't!" admitted Larry the Bat ingratiatingly. "But go on, keep movin', Slimmy! Wot's he done wid de stuff?"
From below, the confused, dull medley of sound from the dance hall seemed only to intensify the silence in the room. Slimmy Jack stood motionless at the side of the safe, his elbow resting against the old-fashioned, protruding upper hinge. A minute, two, another, and still another dragged by. Came then a short ejaculation from Birdie Lee. Slimmy Jack bent forward instantly.
"Well, wot's bitin' youse?" inquired the Magpie ironically. "Nothin'," said Larry the Bat and hesitated. "Nothin', only " He hesitated again; and then, the words in a rush: "Say, Slimmy, couldn't youse come across wid a piece of dat century now?" "Wot fer?" demanded the Magpie, a little aggressively. Larry the Bat cleared his throat with a desperate effort. "Youse knows," he admitted sheepishly.
"Dat's de best t'ing youse can do, Slimmy dey're all alike when dey gets in his class." "Youse cocaine sniffers gives me de pip!" snorted the Magpie, in disgust. He dug down into his pocket, produced a bill, and flung it across the table to Larry the Bat.
Well, wot do youse say, an' say it quick 'cause if youse ain't comin' in, youse can beat it out of here so's I can talk to Mag." "Dere ain't nothin' I wouldn't take a chance on fer a hundred plunks!" declared Larry the Bat, with sudden fervency and stared, anxiously expectant, at the Magpie. "Sure, I'm on Slimmy! Sure, I am! Cut it loose! Spill de story!" "Well, den," said the Magpie, "I wants "
It had come without warning, in the winking of an eye, and for a moment it seemed to Jimmie Dale that he could not grasp the full significance of what had happened that Slimmy Jack, his sleeve catching on the hinge of the safe as he had finally succeeded in jerking his revolver from his pocket, had, a grim, ironical trick of fate, accidentally shot himself!
There was no mistaking the tenor of the leading article on the editorial page: "It is not so much that a thug and criminal known as Slimmy Jack should have been murdered by another wretch of his own breed; indeed, that such should prey upon one another is far from being a matter of regret, for we might hope in time for the extermination of them all by the simple process of mutual attrition and at correspondingly little expense to ourselves but that this so-called Gray Seal should still prove to be alive and at large is a matter that concerns every citizen personally.
"'Ello, Slimmy!" returned Jimmie Dale ungraciously, speaking through the corner of his mouth. "Ferget it!" "Sure!" said the Magpie unconcernedly. He stared about him, and finally, drawing a chair up to the table, sat down, motioned the Tocsin to do the same, and leaned forward amiably. "I didn't mean to throw no scare into youse," he said, in a conciliating tone.
I ain't goin' to be no good to-night if I don't. I tell youse, I got to! I ain't goin' to t'row youse down, Slimmy honest, I ain't! Just one an' it'll set me up. If I don't get none I'll be on de rocks before mornin'! Dat's straight, Slimmy ask Mag, she knows." "Aw, let him go get it!" broke in the Tocsin wearily.
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