“I see youse don’ wanta renew de old acquaintance, Tony,” said Wolfgang, “so we’ll let ’er go at dat. But if youse feel like a little stud any time, drop into De Golden Eagle. Me game’s clean, an’ if youse win youse’ll get away wid it. I ain’t got no hard feelin’s, Fifty-six thirty-five. Wot we did as kids don’ count f’r nuttin’ now. We was bot’ nutty den, I guess.”
“Call me Tony, if you want to,” Joshua offered, “but cut out the Fifty-six thirty-five, will you, please?”
“Don’ like to remember, eh, Tony?”
“It’s just as well not to.”
“I guess youse’re right at dat. Maybe youse don’ want dese plugs aroun’ here to savvy dat youse was in de House o’ Refuge.”
“There’s no call to advertise it,” Joshua told him. “I was committed unjustly, and—”
“Dat’s wot dey all said, Tony.”
“Well, anyway, it’s more convenient to say ‘Tony’ than ‘Fifty-six thirty-five.’ Good-night.”
“S’long, Tony. Don’ forget de number.”
The tent flaps fell behind Joshua, and he hurried back to the street to recover his abandoned bundle.