They closed the door. Arthur had been cowering in his suitcase, but now his eyestalk peeped out and the rattling and clattering from that typewriter sounded like the Battle of the Bulge.
I demanded: “Come on, Vern. What’s this all about?”
Vern said: “How much did they offer you?”
Clatter-bang-BANG. I peeked, and Arthur was saying: WARNED YOU SAM THAT ENGDAHL WAS UP TO TRICKS PLEASE SAM PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HIT HIM ON THE HEAD KNOCK HIM OUT HE MUST HAVE A GUN SO GET IT AND SHOOT OUR WAY OUT OF HERE
“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” I said.
Vern looked outraged. “I only got forty!”
Arthur clattered: VERN I APPEAL TO YOUR COMMON DECENCY WERE OLD SHIPMATES VERN REMEMBER ALL THE TIMES I
“Still,” Vern mused, “it’s all common funds anyway, right? Arthur belongs to both of us.”
I DONT DONT DONT REPEAT DONT BELONG TO ANYBODY BUT ME
“That’s true,” I said grudgingly. “But I carried him, remember.”