" The second speaker's
voice was still further lowered. "It ain't healthy ter hand Curley
anything."
"Who's handin' Curley anything!" retorted the other. "It ain't got
nothin' to do wid Curley. It ain't Curley's money any more. He paid it
over for whatever he's blowin' himself on, an' he's got his receipt for
it. It's none of his funeral after dat! How's he goin' to lose anything
if we lift de cash? An' if he ain't goin' to lose nothin', wot's he
goin' to care! Ferget it! Wot's de matter wid youse!"
There was a moment's apparent hesitancy; then, hoarsely:
"Youse are sure, eh, dat nobody saw youse dere?"
"Say, youse have got de chilly feet fer fair ter-night, ain't youse!
Well, can it! No, dey didn't pipe me, youse can bet yer life on dat. I
was goin' inter de office w'en I hears some spielin' goin' on inside,
an' I opens de door a crack, an' I keeps it open like dat--savvy? An'
w'en de old guy shoots de ready inter de box, an' I makes me
fade-away, I didn't shut de door hard enough ter bust de glass panels,
neither--see? Dat's de story, an' it's on de level. I beats it den,
an' I been huntin' fer youse ever since. Now, wot d'youse say--are
youse on?"
"Sure!" The second speaker's voice had lost its hesitancy now; it was
gruff, assured, even eager.
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