“I knew he was coming.”
“Well, he’s come—and he’s fetched the girl with him. You know what she tried to get him to do last fall, after Lushing was fool enough to bring that look-see crowd down here from the hotel?”
“I know,” said Dargin. “She tried to get the old man to put the kibosh on us. He wouldn’t do it then; and he isn’t going to back Vallory now.”
“Don’t you believe it! The girl will make him back Vallory, if she feels like it. I’m tellin’ you again—I got it straight. The minute Vallory hears she’s here, he makes a straight shoot for the hotel, and sits most o’ the evenin’ on the porch with her. I kep’ cases on ’em.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“It proves what I’m sayin’. You’re goin’ to get the hook, Dargin, and I’m the one man that can keep it out o’ your liver.”
Silas Plegg, from his cramped spying place on the gallery, saw a bleak smile flicker for a moment in the cold eyes of the master gambler.
“You get your pay, don’t you, Simmy?”
“For leggin’ for your skin game down-stairs, yes. But this time I’ve got somethin’ to sell—somethin’ that Grillage’ll pay for, if you don’t want it.”
“Suppose you tell me what it is, Simmy.”