But she came back in a moment and closed the door behind her.
“You might tell Kendall Marsh that I’m through with him,” she said evenly. “And you might tell him that unless he hands me the money by two o’clock to-morrow afternoon, I’ll talk to somebody who might enjoy listening to what I know.”
Butch was out of his chair in a flash and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, crushing her back against the door.
“None of that!” he rasped. “You keep yore tongue to yourself, if you know what’s best for yore skin. If I thought you meant that, I’d wring yore neck right now. I don’t care how hard yuh nick Kendall Marsh, but don’tcha ever hint towards tellin’ what yuh know.”
Della was frightened. She knew that Butch Van Deen would kill her like he would a snake. She wet her dry lips and tried to smile in his twisted face.
“I—I just meant for you to tell Kendall Marsh that, Butch. I’m not serious. Don’t! You’re hurting me. I just wanted to scare him.”
Butch released her and stepped back.
“That kinda foolin’ will put yuh in a grave,” he said angrily. “I’m lookin’ out for my own skin. I’ll tell yuh that, sister; yuh don’t mean anythin’ to me.”
Della rubbed her aching arms. Butch had a grip like a vice and she was duly impressed.
“I just meant to scare Kendall Marsh.”