There was a cunning smile on Tip’s weazened face.
“I say, boss,” he said. “Ain’t you goin’ to give me somethin’ for lettin’ you out?”
Gerald was amused in spite of himself.
“I ought rather to punish you for getting me into such a scrape.”
“’Twasn’t me. ’Twas Uncle Sam that made me do it.”
“I know that, and for that reason I will forgive you. You were paid for luring me in here, and ought to be satisfied with that. So Mr. Standish is your uncle?”
“That is what he says. I couldn’t swear to it.”
“Perhaps he will leave you some money in his will.”
“He ain’t got no money,” said Tip contemptuously. “He’s strapped most of the time. Did you give him any?”