“He said yuh was over at Timmin’s lookin’ fer a job.”
“Shine” looked up under his eyebrows with a bloodshot glower. “He sloughed me fer ev’rythin’ I had on me.”
“I guess you’re right,” Simpson said. “He looked like he had.”
“Shine” put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. Simpson winked at his wife. The Queens of the Harem smiled appreciatively, but with care—on account of their “makeup.”
After a long silence, “Shine” said weakly, “I got to get back to the boat, I’m off without leave. Gi’ me a pair o’ boots an’ le’ me go.”
“Sure thing,” Simpson promised. “There’s a fullah promised he’d be here t’night. I’ll let yuh go as soon ’s he comes.”
“I got to go now.”
“Long way to walk—in bare hoofs, too. Better work out yer contrac’.”
“Shine” tried to focus a wavering eye on him. “Yuh’re in this with Doherty,” he said. “Yuh damn double-crosser. Yuh dirty back-capper!”
Simpson replied, with meaning, “D’ yuh mind the time yuh handed me over to Pikey Moffat? Think about it.” He got up from the table. “Think about it,” he said as he went out.