“Who says he is?”
“He says so, by cripes! I’ve got it straight. This here hell-hole’s got to be took off the map. It’s bu’stin’ up his gangs and robbin’ his men, and he ain’t goin’ to stand for no such. And say, Jack—he’s got the old geezer behind him!”
“Grillage? Not in a thousand years, Simmy.”
“I’m tellin’ you I got it straight. There’s a skirt in it this time.”
“Cough it up.”
“It’s this-away; that young cock-o’-the-walk’s goin’ to marry Grillage’s daughter—see?”
“How do you know he is?”
“There ain’t much that a bunch as big as ours don’t know about its bosses—or that it can’t find out if it tries. Vallory hadn’t hardly lit down on the job before ever’body knew that he got his boost from the inside—that it was all in the family. Why, hell; he’s nothin’ but an overgrowed kid!”
“You talk too many, Simmy,” was the gruff interruption. “Get down to the face-cards and aces.”
“All right, I will. Did you know Grillage is here?”