“More credit, eh?” asked the man with the crooked mouth. “For why?”
The four rascals were in the cottage where they had met before, and the room reeked with the smoke of bad tobacco.
“Why?” replied Dolphin. “Because you’re the oldest hand of the lot, an’ you’ve been in the business all your life.”
“Jes’ so,” said Garstang, with an evil smile. “’Xcept when I’ve bin the guest of the Widow.”
“Which has been pretty frequent,” interjected Sweet William.
“To clean the Bank out is easy enough,” said Dolphin: “the trouble is to get away with the stuff. You ought to see that with half an eye. To stick up the escort requires a little skill, a little pluck; but as for gettin’ away with the gold afterwards, that’s child’s play.”
“Dead men don’t tell no tales,” remarked Sweet William.
“But their carcases do,” objected Garstang.
“You beat everything!” exclaimed the leader, growing almost angry. “Ain’t there such a thing as a shovel? No wonder you were copped pretty often by the traps, Garstang.”
“You two men wrangle like old women,” said Carnac. “Drop it. Tell us what’s the first thing to do.”