“You can't stop it now, Mary,” came the brisk retort. “Too late. You're only wasting time, making it dangerous for all of us.”
Again he gave his attention to carrying on the robbery.
“Red,” he ordered, “you get to that door.” He pointed to the one that gave on the passageway against which he had set the chair tilted. As the man obeyed, Garson gave further instructions.
“If any one comes in that way, get him and get him quick. You understand? Don't let him cry out.”
Chicago Red grinned with cheerful acceptance of the issue in such an encounter. He held up his huge hand, widely open.
“Not a chance,” he declared, proudly, “with that over his mug.” To avoid possible interruption of his movements in an emergency, he removed the chair Garson had placed and set it to one side, out of the way.
“Now, let's get to work,” Garson continued eagerly. Mary spoke with the bitterness of defeat.
“Listen, Joe! If you do this, I'm through with you. I quit.”
Garson was undismayed by the threat.
“If this goes through,” he countered, “we'll all quit. That's why I'm doing it. I'm sick of the game.”