"Oh, let that pyramid," says I, tossin' it back.
Honest, I never shied so at money before, but somehow takin' that went against the grain. Maybe it was the way it was shoved at me.
I'd kind of got interested in the job of puttin' Dawes on his feet, though, and Thursday I goes up for another session. Just as I steps off the elevator at his floor I hears a scuffle, and out comes a couple of the baby blue bunch, shoving along an old party with her bonnet tilted over one ear. I gets a view of her face, though, and I sees she's a nice, decent lookin' old girl, that don't seem to be either tanked or batty, but just kind of scared. A Willie boy in a frock coat was followin' along behind, and as they gets to me he steps up, grabs her by the arm, and snaps out:
"Now you leave quietly, or I'll hand you over to the police! Understand?"
That scares her worse than ever, and she rolls her eyes up to me in that pleadin' way a dog has when he's been hurt.
"Hear that?" says one of the baby blues, shakin' her up.
My fingers went into bunches as sudden as if I'd touched a live wire, but I keeps my arms down. "Ah, say!" says I. "I don't see any call for the station-house drag out just yet. Loosen up there a bit, will you?"
"Mind your business!" says one of 'em, givin' me the glary eye.
"Thanks," says I. "I was waitin' for an invite," and I reaches out and gets a shut-off grip on their necks. It didn't take 'em long to loosen up after that.
"Here, here!" says the Willie that I'd spotted for Corson. "Oh, it's you is it, professor?"