“Mebbe so, though I have a hunch that you’ll change your mind,” Chick retorted. “If you don’t, it will be all over but the settling.”
“What do you mean by settling?”
“You know what I mean, all right. Mebbe, though, you don’t quite get me; I’ll make it so plain that a blind monkey could see it in the dark. I’m out for the coin myself, you know, when I see a chance to lift any. I’d be a bird if I let this chance slip by.”
“You mean——”
“I mean all I am saying,” Chick cut in, with ominous mien. “Understand, though, I’m not a gink who would betray a pal. I wouldn’t squeal on a friend if I was strung toes up. Not on your tintype. But I’m not a pal of yours, nor of any of the bunch. I wasn’t in this job, I’m only looking to get in.”
“You mean that you are here to blackmail me,” snapped Janet. “Is that it?”
“Blackmail be hanged!” growled Chick derisively. “You can’t blackmail an ink spot. You know what I want—and I’m going to have it.”
“I’ll know when you tell me,” frowned the woman. “Not till then.”
Chick jerked his chair nearer to that in which she was seated. There was, indeed, no mistaking his meaning, if one was to have judged from outward appearances. His hangdog face wore an expression that none could have misinterpreted.
“I’ll tell you what I mean, all right,” he replied, with more threatening intonation. “I want a bit of that coin and I’m going to have it. When I get it, I’ll go about my business and keep my trap closed. I’ll never squeal. I’ll never yip till the day of judgment. You can bank on that, and bank on it good and strong.”