Then he relapsed into brooding silence.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Worrying about Allen?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “I’ll stall him off again.”
“He isn’t going to be easy to stall this time,” she observed, “if I gathered the correct idea from his line of talk over the phone to-day. I can’t see what you’ve done with all the coin, Wilson.”
“You got yours, didn’t you?” he growled.
“Sure, I got mine,” she answered, “and it’s nothing to me what you did with Allen’s share; but I’m here to tell you that you’ve pulled a boner if you’ve double-crossed him. I’m not much of a character reader, as proved by my erstwhile belief that you were a high-minded gentleman; but it strikes me the veriest boob could see that that man Allen is a bad actor. You’d better look out for him.”
“I ain’t afraid of him,” blustered Crumb.
“No, of course you’re not,” she agreed sarcastically. “You’re a regular little lion-hearted Reginald, Wilson—that’s what you are!”
The doorbell rang.
“There he is now,” said the girl.