"Go on!" he whispered hoarsely, "go on—what's keepin' you? If it's the cops or croaking, I—I'd rather croak."
"Why?"
"'Cause if I was ever sent to—prison—it 'ud break her heart, I guess."
"Her heart?" said Mr. Ravenslee, and lowered the pistol.
"Me sister's."
"Ah—so you have a sister?" and Mr. Ravenslee sat up suddenly.
"Lots o' guys has, but there ain't a sister like mine in all N' York—nor nowheres else."
"Who are you? What's your name?"
"Spike. Me real name's Arthur, but Arthur sounds kinder soft an' sissy; nobody don't call me Arthur 'cept her, an' I don't mind her."
"And what's her name?"