“Well, I guess a Turkish bath would be better. Where’s Galloway?”
“Gall’way’s good fellow; reli’ble watchman. Wife’s sick; sent him home with my comp’ments. Told ’im I’d take full reshponshibility.”
“You didn’t expect to collect the insurance on that story, did you? You must have a low opinion of the adjusters. I’ll fire Galloway to-morrow for leaving you here in this shape.”
“Not on yer life y’ won’t! Silly old man didn’t know I wuz loaded. Came on me sud’ly—very sud’ly. Only had slix slocktails—no; thass wrong; thass all wrong. You know what I mean. Effect unusual—mos’ unusual. Just a few small drinks at club. Guess I can’t carry liquor’s graceful-ly as I used to. Billy Copeland’s no good any more. Want lie down. Good place on floor. Nice bed right here, Jerry. Lemme go t’ sleep.”
He grasped the edge of the cask more firmly and bent his head to look down at the heap of straw he had been planting round it when Amidon interrupted him.
“Not much I won’t! But before we skip I’ve got to clean up this trash. Steady, now; come along!”
He seized Copeland’s arm and forced him to the stairway, where he left him huddled on the bottom step.
“No respec’ for head of house; no respec’ whatever,” Copeland muttered.
Jerry bade him remain quiet, and began carrying the straw and boxes back to the packing-room. He swept the floor clean, and when he was satisfied that no telltale trace remained he got Copeland to the counting-room and telephoned for a taxi.
“Goin’ to be busted to-morrow; clean smash. You made awful mistake, Jeremiah, in not lessing—no, not lesting me burn ’er up. Insurance’d help out consid’ble. Need new building, anyhow.”