"Hold hard, mister," he said. "Let's get this thing right. There's a guy you want to croak. Do I get you right?"
Again Mr. Yakoff translated the idioms, for Yakoff had not lived on the edge of New York's underworld without acquiring some knowledge of its language.
Boolba nodded.
"We desire him killed," he said. "He is a tyrant, an oppressor——"
"Hold hard," said Bim. "I want to see this thing plain. You're going to croak this guy, and I'm the man to do it? Do I get you?"
"That is what I desire," said Boolba, and Bim shook his head.
"It can't be done," he said. "I'm over here for a quiet, peaceful life, and anyway, I've got nothing on this fellow. I'm not over here to get my picture in the papers. It's a new land to me—why, if you put me in Piccadilly Circus I shouldn't know which way to turn to get out of it! Anyway, that strong arm stuff is out so far as I'm concerned."
"What does he say?" said Boolba again, and again Yakoff translated.
"I thought you were what you call a gun-man," said Boolba with a curl of his lip. "I did not expect you to be frightened."