“You're a fool!” he snarled. “You won't believe me! You think I'm trying to work you for half of that money. Well, so I am, in a way—or I wouldn't have come here. But I'm earning it. Look at the risk I'm taking—five years, the same as you got. You crazy fool! Do you think I'm bluffing? I tell you again, I know what I'm talking about. The police'll never give you a look-in. You got to have help. Who else is there but me? It's better to split with me than lose the whole of it, ain't it?”
“You haven't changed a bit in five years, Bookie.” There was studied insolence in Dave Henderson's voice now. “Not a damned bit! Run along now—beat it!”
“You mean that?” Bookie Skarvan's eyes were puckered into slits now. “You mean you're going to turn me down?”
“Yes!” said Dave Henderson.
“I'll give you one more chance,” whispered Skarvan. “No!”
Bookie Skarvan's fat fingers squirmed around inside his collar as though it choked him.
“All right!” His lips were twitching angrily. “All right!” he repeated ominously. “Then, by God, you'll never get the money—even if you beat the police! Understand? I'll see to that! I made you a fair, straight offer. You'll find now that there'll be some one else besides you and Barjan out for that coin—and when the showdown comes it won't be either you or Barjan that gets it! And maybe you think that's a bluff, too!”
“I never said I knew where the money was,” said Dave Henderson—and smiled—and shrugged his shoulders. “Therefore you ought to stand just as good a chance as Barjan—or I. After I got wounded I kind of lost track of things, you know.”
“You lie!” said Skarvan fiercely. “I—I———” He checked himself, biting at his lips. “I'll give you one more chance again. What's your last word?”
“You've got it, Bookie,” said Dave Henderson evenly.