“Yes. James.”
Bill sprang to his feet and kicked back his chair. The sudden rage in his eyes was startling, even to Minky, who was used to the man. However, he waited, and in a moment or two his friend was talking again in his usually cold tone.
“I’ll jest git around an’ see how Sunny’s doin’,” he said.
Then he drew out a pipe and began to cut flakes of tobacco from a black plug.
“See here, Minky,” he went on, after a moment’s pause. “You need to do some thinkin’. How much dust have you got in the store?”
“’Bout twenty thousand dollars.”
“Whew!” Bill whistled softly as he packed the tobacco in his pipe. “An elegant parcel for strangers to handle.”
The storekeeper’s face became further troubled.
“It sure is––if they handle it.”
“Jest so.”