"Well," I tells him, "go to it! But the thing I can't figure, is what d'you care if he gets over or not—who pays you off on it?"
He looks me over for a minute, registerin' deep thought.
"I'm gonna give you the works!" he says finally. "And if you ever mention a word of this to anybody, they'll have to identify your body afterwards by that green vest you got!"
"Rockefeller's three dollars short of havin' enough money to make me tell!" I says.
"Fair enough!" says Duke. "Did you notice that strange dame which was with Miss Vincent in the car just now?"
"The blonde that would of made Marc Anthony throw away Cleopatra's 'phone number?" I asks. "Yeh—I noticed her. Easily that!"
"Well," he says, "this dame, which was such a knockout to you, is Miss Dorothy Devine. When her father died last year, she become a orphan."
"Well, that's tough," I says. "Me and the Kid will kick in with any amount in reason and—"
"Halt!" said Eddie. "Her dear old father only left her a pittance of fifty thousand a year and two-thirds control of the company we're all workin' for out here. Now besides bein' several jumps ahead of the average dame in looks, Dorothy is a few centuries ahead of the movies in ideas. She claims we're all wrong, and she's gonna revolutionize the watch-'em-move photo industry. That's what she's here for now!"
"Well," I says after a bit, "what d'ye expect me to do—bust out cryin'?"