“That being the case, Mr. Murdock, I’ll sail under true colors,” he said curtly.
“You may as well,” Murdock rejoined, with a sneer. “But don’t get gay, Carter, or you’ll pay the price. Keep your hands on your knees.”
“Don’t be alarmed,” Chick retorted. “I’m not inviting a bullet by opposing you. Do what you like.”
“We intend doing so,” snapped Murdock. “The mistake[{31}] you made, Carter, was in undertaking to oppose us. You now find yourself neatly trapped.”
“Oh, not as neatly as you imagine,” said Chick. “You have had nothing on me.”
“Nothing on you, eh?”
“Only what I have voluntarily handed you.”
“Rats!” cried Bart Bailey, with a snarl and scowl. “Tell that to the marines. I’ve made a monkey of you, Carter, and you know it.”
“It’s not in you, Bailey, to make a monkey of me,” Chick replied, with a scornful glance at him. “It’s you who were monkeyed last night, when I picked you up in Lexington Avenue and trailed you to Philadelphia, with you none the wiser.”
“That’s insignificant,” said Murdock, checking Bailey with a gesture. “We know all about that. We know just how it was done.”