In the city hospital the man Morrissy, his head in bandages, smiled feebly into Cunningham’s face.
“Were you mad to try a game like that? What the devil possessed you? Three to one, and never a ghost of a chance. You never blew up like this before. What’s the answer?”
“Just struck me, Dick—one of those impulses you can’t help. I’m sorry. Ought to have known I’d have no chance, and you’d have been justified in croaking me. Just as I was in the act of handing them over to you the idea came to bolt. 38 All that dough would keep me comfortably the rest of my life.”
“What happened to them?”
“Don’t know. After that biff on the coco I only wanted some place to crawl into. I had them in my hand when I started to run. Sorry.”
“Have they quizzed you?”
“Yes, but I made out I couldn’t talk. What’s the dope?”
“You were in a rough-and-tumble down the Chinese Bund, and we got you away. Play up to that.”
“All right. But, gee! I won’t be able to go with you.”
“If we have any luck, I’ll see you get a share.”