“You, eh, Nan!” he grunted. “So you've come to see old Jake Shluker, have you? 'Tain't often you come! And what's brought you, eh?”
“I can read, can't I?” Rhoda Gray glanced furtively around her, then leaned toward the other. “Say, wot's de lay? I been scared stiff all day. Is dat straight wot de papers said about youse-know-who gettin' pinched?”
A scowl settled over Shluker's features as he nodded.
“Yes; it's straight enough,” he answered. “Damn 'em, one and all! But they let him out again.”
“Dat's de stuff!” applauded Rhoda Gray earnestly. “Where is he, den?”
Shluker shook his head.
“He didn't say,” said Shluker.
“He didn't say?” echoed Rhoda Gray, a little tartly. “Wot d'youse mean, he didn't say? Have youse seen him?”
Shluker jerked his hand toward the telephone instrument on the desk.
“He was talkin' to me a little while ago.”