She said quickly, “What you think? I came away in a rush.” She put her hand cautiously on her bag that hung on her wrist. Dillon leant forward and ripped the bag from her. For a moment she hesitated, then she flung herself forward. Dillon was expecting her to start something, and he swung a backhand, knocking her into the corner of the car. “Cut it out,” he said viciously. “You ain’t got no dough, so what you gettin’ sore about?”
He put his hand inside the bag and felt the big roll of money. He grinned to himself in the dark. Taking the roll out, he transferred it to his own pocket. He tossed the bag into her lap.
She said feverishly, “Give me that dough.”
Dillon said, “Be careful.” There was such an ugly threat in his voice that she shivered.
Roxy slowed down. “Springdale’s just ahead,” he said, “I guess we’ll ditch this heap an’ walk.”
He ran the car off the road and stopped. The three climbed out. Dillon said. “I’ll look good carrying this Thompson.”
Roxy said, “Suppose you wrap it in your coat?”
Dillon took off his coat and did as Roxy suggested. They began to walk down the dark road. Round the bend they could see lights.
Roxy said, “This guy we’re goin’ to has big ideas. You’ll have to pay him plenty.”
Dillon said coldly, “We’ll see about that.”