"Murphy," said "Slim," speaking slowly, "you've got one chance to get out of this."
"What've I done, 'Slim'?" his voice shook. In his terror he could only think of trying to "stall."
"Don't pull that stuff on me, you damn stool-pigeon," snapped "Slim." "You know what I want from you. Who was that with you last night? Come on, spit it out."
"What're ya talkin' about, 'Slim'?"
"I told you not to pull that stuff. It won't get you anything, see? We know you were in it. You ———— fool, didn't you know we'd find out about you?"
"Ah, 'Slim,' ya got me wrong, I ain't——"
A hand clutched his hair. He could feel the finger nails digging into his scalp. With a jerk that shook him to his feet Louie threw him half out of the chair.
"Cut it, Louie," he heard "Slim" say as he remained where he had been thrown, fearful of lifting his head.
For a minute there was a dreadful silence.