"We can't talk here," said Archie. "You pull off my hearing as soon as possible, and get me out of here. When I get over to the pogey I'll have a chance to turn around, and we can talk. Bring it on as soon's you can, Mr. Marriott. Won't you? God! It's hell in that crum box, and those drunks snoring and snorting and havin' the willies all night. Can't you get it on to-morrow morning?"
"Can we be ready by then?"
"Oh, there's nothin' to it down here. We'll waive."
"We'll see," said Marriott, with the professional dislike of permitting clients to dictate how their desperate affairs should be managed. "You see I don't know the circumstances of the affair yet. All I know is what I've read in the papers."
"Oh, well, to hell with them," said Archie. "Never mind what they say. They're tryin' to stick me for that Flanagan job. You know, Mr. Marriott, I didn't have nothin' to do with that, don't you?"
Archie leaned forward in an appeal that was irresistible, convincing.
"Yes, I know that."
"All right, I want you to know that. I ain't that kind, you know. But Kouka--well, I got him, but I had to, Mr. Marriott; I had to. You see that, don't you? He agitated me to it; he agitated me to it."
He repeated the word thus strangely employed a number of times, as if it gave him relief and comfort.
"Yes, sir, he agitated me to it. I had to; that's all. It was a case of self-defense."