“Come to the point, you rascal,” Badger impatiently growled.
“Sure I will, mister, if you give me time.”
“If you don’t, I’ll give you something besides time.”
“’Twas like this, d’ye see?” continued Patsy coolly. “We saw this big car alongside the curb on Tremont Street, and Nosey, the which we call Jones because his beak is so big—Nosey bet me a five I didn’t dare get into the hamper and steal a ride.”
“He did, eh?” sneered Badger, with an ugly gleam in his searching eyes.
“That’s what he did, sir,” nodded Patsy. “I’d seen these two ladies go into the building near-by, so I said to myself I’d have time to duck into the hamper before they came out. I thought it a cinch to win a five in that easy way. So when I found it was empty, mister, in I jumped, and here I am—the which I wouldn’t be, only for that dog, I give you my blooming word.”
“Your blooming word doesn’t cut any ice with me,” Conley now declared, with an angry snarl. “I’ll not swallow this story, Badger, not on your life. It’s much more likely that he’s working with his nobs in yonder, and mebbe there are more of the same kind about here at this moment.”
This possibility suggested by Conley was not without immediate effect upon Badger, who turned quickly to the waiting women and cried sharply:
“Go over to the house, you two, and we’ll bring this rascal there and question him further. You, Jerry, close that sliding door. We’ll leave the other where we have him. He cannot get out, that’s sure, and I’ll take no chance that there are others to see us in this place. We’ll go over to the house and settle with this young cub.”
“That will be safest,” nodded Conley, as he hastened to obey.