A puzzled look crept into Birdie's eyes.
"W-what do you mean?" he stammered.
"I mean that I want the _proof_ that you are straight," Jimmie Dale said
softly. "I've been here in the room all the time. I want to know whether
you were stalling on Slimmy Jack, or not. And I want to know, if you
_were_ stalling, how you came to be here with him."
"That's a queer spiel," said Birdie Lee, in a troubled way. "I thought
at first you were a bull--but you don't talk like one. Mabbe you're
playin' with me; but, whether you are or not, I guess it won't make much
difference what I say. You couldn't help me if you wanted to now--with
him dead there"--he jerked his head toward the form on the floor.
"Tell me, anyhow," insisted Jimmie Dale quietly.
Birdie's hand lifted and swept across his eyes.
"Well, all right," he said, after a moment; "I'll tell you. Me and
Slimmy used to work together all the time in Chicago and out West after
I left New York, and until I came back here one day and pulled one
alone and got sent up for it. Well, to-day, when they let me out of
Sing Sing, Slimmy had come on from Chicago and was waitin' for me. He
had a deal all fixed in Chicago that we was to pull together, a big
one, and this little one here was to keep us goin' until the big one
came off.
Pages:
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54