"Nothing much. I didn't go to no roo Quinze Octobre. But I don't never want to see that fella Quintana. I've been waiting till it's safe to sell — what was in that packet."
"Sell what?"
"What was in that packet," replied Clinch thickly.
"What was in it?"
"Sparklers — since you're so nosey."
"Diamonds?"
"And then some. I dunno what they're called. All I know is I'll croak Quintana if he even turns up askin' for 'em. He frisked somebody. I frisked him. I'll kill anybody who tries to frisk me."
"Where do you keep them?" enquired Smith naively.
Clinch looked at him, very drunk: "None o' your dinged business," he said very softly.
The dancing had become boisterous but not unseemly, although all the men had been drinking too freely.