“Yes, I know all that!” she said vacantly, wearily, for her racing thoughts were far away. She was inwardly confessing to herself that they who live by the sword must die by the sword.
“Then what’s the use o’ crucifyin’ yourself?” cried MacNutt, seeming to catch hope from her change of tone. “You know as well as I do that I can hound this Durkin off the face o’ the globe. I can make it so hot for him here in New York that he daren’t stick his nose within a foot o’ the Hudson. And I’m goin’ to do it, too! I’m goin’ to do it, unless you want to come and stop me from doin’ it!”
“Why?” she asked emptily.
“Didn’t you save my life once, Frank, right in this room? Damn it all, you must have thought a little about me, to do a thing like that!”
“And what did you do for it?” she demanded, with a sudden change of front. Once again she was all animal, artful and cunning and crafty. “You played the sneak-thief. You slunk back here and stole his money. No, no; there’s no good your denying it—you came and stole his honestly earned money!”
“Honestly earned?” he scoffed.
“No, not honestly earned, perhaps, but made as clean as it could be made, in this low and mean and underhand business you taught us and dragged us into! And you came and stole it, when it meant so much to me, and to him!”
“Yes, I said I’d knock him, and I did knock him! But, good heavens, what’s his money to a high-roller like me! If that’s all you’re swingin’ your clapper about, you may as well get wise. If it’s the money you’re achin’ after, you can have it—providin’ you take it the way I’m willin’ to give it to you!”
“I can’t believe you—you know that!”
“You think I’m talkin’ big? Well, look here. Here’s my wad! Yes, look at it good and hard—there’s enough there to smother you in diamonds, and let you lord it ’round this town for the rest of your life!”