“For your scheme? Tell it to me, Putney.”
“On a fifty-fifty basis, Amos. If you win, I get half.”
“And if I lose?”
“You’ve already lost, you poor egg.”
“All right,” eagerly. “Fifty-fifty, Putney.”
“That’s a bet, Amos. How soon will the bank examiner come?”
“I don’t know. He’s due any old time.”
“All right. Cloudy McGee is also coming—to kill Miles Rooney. You see McGee before he kills Rooney. Not that we care what he does to Rooney, you understand; but he must postpone it.
“McGee is our meat. Watch for him, Amos. And as soon as you see him, bring him to me. But do this secretly. If there’s any killing going on—remember I’m a lawyer, not a target.”
“I’m no target either,” declared Amos. “I don’t know Cloudy McGee, but I’ll do my best. You’ve got to get me out of this. I took your advice once—and lost.”