“What do you mean by that, Belle?”
“You’d no business to turn such a trick as you turned. It was too long a chance.”
“Silence! Silence, I say!” Godard quickly snarled, with an uglier frown. “What need to speak of that?”
“Bah! there’s none here to be feared.”
“Mebbe not, but I’ll not have it talked about,” declared Godard. “You’ve got your share of the blunt, all you deserve, and the least you can do is to keep your mouth closed.”
“It’s closed all right, Nate, when there’s any danger about,” retorted Belle pointedly. “Have no fear of me. I’ll never give you away. But such tricks as that always bring bad luck, Nate.”
“Not always,” growled Godard, less sullenly. “What I can’t understand is why the police have made such a mark of me.”
“That so?”
“To raid me twice within a week—that’s pressing things over the limit. It’s not usual with the infernal bluebottles, and I’m cursed if I can fathom it.”
“Can’t you guess who has tipped them to do it?” inquired Belle.