"Well, you remember you said we could try it if we weren't gettin' men through quick enough."
"Pah! None of the crowd had the guts to make a real charge."
"At a Maxim? They ain't crazy."
The gangster spat scornfully on the floor.
"Oh, never mind. We'll smuggle a few more through before we shoot."
The gangster grunted.
"Are you sure the yallah-legs is asleep?" he asked.
"Certain. But I'll find out again before you slip across the line. Anything else?"
"You bet!" Greasy sat up and looked fiercely at his companion. "How do I know you won't double-cross me yet? You—a Canadian M.P.?"
"My dear Greasy," said Welland, with an air of infinite patience. "Suppose I did? Couldn't you give away my part of the show—and ruin me?"