“No,” shortly.
“Going to fight, are you?”
“No use. The confounded lawyers say I wouldn't have a show.”
“Humph! Low-down trick of the old woman's, wasn't it, giving you the shake that way? Everybody thought you were her pet weakness. We used to envy your soft snap. Did you get the go-by altogether?”
“Pretty near. Got a little something, but it was precious little.”
“Can you pull through on it?”
“'Twill be a devilish hard pull.”
“Too bad, old man. But cheer up! You'll come out on top. Have another one of these things?”
“All right.”
More Martinis were ordered. “Monty” and his friend lit fresh cigarettes. The former asked another question.