“You bet your life, it is!” said Barjan. “Don't fool yourself! It's a hell of a long time in the pen! And if you think you could get away with the wad when you get out again, you've got another think coming, too! Take it from me!”
“I wasn't thinking about the money,” said Dave Henderson slowly. “I was thinking about that story.” He closed his eyes. The room was swimming around him. Five years—chalked up to Bookie Skarvan! His hand on the coverlet clenched, and raised and fell impotently to the coverlet again. He was conscious that Barjan was leaning over the bed to catch his words, because he wasn't speaking very loud. “I was thinking it was a long time to wait—to get even.”
A woman's voice seemed to come drifting out of space... that would be the nurse, of course... a woman's voice....
“That's all very well! You may be a police officer, but you had no business to make him talk. He is not strong enough to stand any excitement, and——”
The voice drifted off into nothingness.