“An’ suppose a man chooses to spend a little holiday in gaol, what then?”
“That’s outside the sphere of practical politics, my son.”
“I don’t know so much about that. I think different. I think we’ll cry quits. I think I’ll go along with you, or likely there’ll be trouble.”
“Trouble?”
“Yes, trouble.”
“What sort of trouble, jackanapes?”
“Why, crimson trouble.”
“Indeed.”
“I’ve got you tied hand and foot, boss. You can take that from me.”
“Is that so? What do you think you can do?”