"You needn't!" said Kieff with ironical humour. "And Burke needn't either. As for the woman—" he snapped his fingers again—"she'll come back like a homing dove, if he waits a little."
Kelly swore again furiously. "Ah, why did I ever lend myself to digging young Guy out of Hoffstein's? Only a blasted fool could have expected to bring anything but corruption out of that sink of evil. It was Burke's own doing, but I was a fool—I was a three times fool—to give in to him."
"Where is the worthy Burke?" questioned Kieff, "Over at Merston's, doing the good Samaritan; been working like a nigger all day. And now!" There was actually a sound of tears in Kelly's voice. "I'd give me right hand," he vowed tremulously, "I'd give me soul—such as it is—to be out of this job."
"You want a drink," said Kieff.
Kelly sniffed and began a clumsy search for refreshment.
Kieff came forward kindly and helped him. It was he who measured the drinks finally when they were produced, and even Kelly, who could stand a good deal, opened his eyes somewhat at the draught he prepared for himself.
"Dry weather!" remarked Kieff, as he tossed it down. "You're not going back to Merston's to-night, are you?"
"Must," said Kelly laconically.
"Why not wait till the morning?" suggested Kieff. "I shall be passing that way myself then. We could go together."
There was a gleam in his black eyes that made Kelly look at him hard. "And what would you want to be there for?" he demanded aggressively. "Isn't one bearer of evil tidings enough?"