Valentine: And show ’em how dangerous I am? Why, Al, they’d never sleep nights after that. They’d say, “This guy’ll have everything we own!” Not on your tin-type, Al!
Jennings: The main finger knows you’re a sick man, Jimmie—
Valentine: If I’m well enough to open one, I’m well enough to open two. The main finger knows that, and if he don’t, the newspapers’ll tell him. Forget it son!
Jennings: He wanted me to put it up to you—
Valentine: Sure, he knows you’re my friend—he’s a wise bird, all right And I’ll do it, Al—don’t misunderstand me, I’ll do it but I won’t kid myself. I’ll do it for your sake. I’ll say to him: “Give my friend Al a square deal in this place; and Mr. Porter here—”
Porter: Don’t do it for me! I wouldn’t let a man do such a thing!
Valentine: You mean, filin’ my nails? Hell, what do you suppose that amounts to, when you’re fixed like me? I’ll do it and glad to do it for a friend. Lead me to it!
Jennings: I thought Bill would see a story in your stunt, Jimmie; but he says it’s too painful.
Valentine (looking at Porter with sharp interest): Well, he’s right. What does anybody want to read about things like that for? People want to be happy, they want some reason fer goin’ on livin’. If you put me in a story, Mr. Porter, put me like I might have been. You wouldn’t think it to see me now, but I was a gay kid once; a good-looker, and the girls all liked me—yes, and I decided to go straight, too, but the bulls wouldn’t let me. There was a guy named Varick, he had me in his note-book, and every time there was a job pulled off, Jimmie Valentine was the first man he thought of; he’d haul me up to headquarters once a week, till I got surly, like a dog chained up. You may believe it or not, I don’t care—but the job I’m here for was a job I never saw.
Jennings: Jimmie, Bill here is right; there’s nothing in it for you. Tell the main finger to go to hell.