“Honest, I don’t.”
“Say, Bally, you couldn’t be honest if you tried. Well, I ain’t on to anythin’ you’ve been doin’, but I want to know who dose fellers are, see! If you don’t give it, why——”
He stopped, looking Bally in the face, steadily and threateningly.
“Well,” at length said the East Side tough, “dey ain’t no fr’en’s of mine. Dere names is Al Crummie and Bill Graff.”
“Crooks?”
“Well, dey ain’t straight goods.”
“Where is dere hang-out?”
“On de block below. What dey been doin’?”
“Poisoning dogs, I guess.”
Bally looked up at Patsy with a laugh, as if he did not believe him.