"S' right, Bud, dere's a noo captain on d' precinct, an' he's pinched O'Rourke. 'N' say, Bud, d' game's all balled up; d' push is all up in d' air. 'N' say, O'Rourke's crazy an' can't do nothin', so he sent me t' fetch ye. You're d' only one as can fix d' police, so come on right now before d' whole show's busted up." During this breathless speech the narrowed eyes of M'Ginnis never left Ravenslee's pale, placid face, and in the persistence of this ferocious glare was something animal-like.
"Say, you—Mr. Butt-in!" said he, "I ain't through wid you—not by a whole lot I ain't. Oh, I'll get ye yet, an' I'll get ye good! There won't be nothin' left for nobody else when I'm through wid you. Savvy this—there ain't nobody ever goin' t' queer me with Hermy Chesterton. Oh, I'll get ye good, an' I'll get ye—soon!"
So saying, Bud M'Ginnis turned, and went slowly and unwillingly down the stair.
"Gee, but I'm glad he's gone!" said Spike, as he closed the door. "Gee, but I'm—glad!" and he drew a deep breath.
"So am I!" said Ravenslee, sinking into the armchair, "but there's always to-morrow, isn't there?"
But instead of replying, Spike stood to stare on Ravenslee with eyes of admiring awe.
"I guess you know how t' handle y' self, Geoff," said he.
"I used to think I could, once upon a time," answered Ravenslee, stooping to recover his pipe.
"That sure was some wallop you handed him!"
"'T was fair, I thank you, comrade!"