“Yeah,” he said, showing his tobacco stained teeth. “Do you want to make anything of it?”
I decided that I’d be more use to Myra if I remained in one piece. The Bogle fella looked like he might be a little too much for me. Besides, I never like hitting anyone twice my size. I don’t see any sense in it.
“No, that’s all right, Bud,” I said, stretching my leg and stamping. “I got a cramp?”
“Cramp?” he repeated, blinking at me.
“Yeah, nasty thing, cramp.” I looked over at Myra. “Do you ever get cramp?”
“Only when I wear pink,” she said. “It’s a funny thing, but, pink cramps my style.” Bogle’s blood pressure seemed to be troubling him. He tore his hat off his head and dashed it on to the ground. Then he began punching the air with his fists.
“Gently, Bogle,” Ansell broke in. “There’s no need to lose your temper.”
“I want my dough!” Bogle howled, kicking his hat across the verandah. “I don’t want a lot of talk. I just want my money and then I’m going to tear this dame into small pieces and feed her to the vultures.”
Ansell drew up a chair. “We mustn’t jump to conclusions,” he said. “We have no proof that Miss Shurnway took our money.”
“I’ve get proof,” Bogle said savagely. “I’ll get it if I have to turn her inside out.”