"No more does a man in a whorehouse," he retorted vulgarly. "Story's no good without him."
That was what I thought and I'm afraid my satisfaction appeared on my face.
"Now leely man—no try a hold up da press. Whatsa matter, you aready had da beer and da roasta bif sanawich?"
"Maybe you better repeat the order. You know in these cheap places they don't like to have you sit around and talk without spending money."
"Money! Eh, laddie—I'm nae a millionaire." He balanced a full glass of water thoughtfully upon a knifeblade, looking around for applause. When it was not forthcoming he meekly followed my suggestion.
"Listen, Gootes," I swallowed a mouthful of sandwich and sipped a little beer. "I want to help you get your story."
He waved his hand and pulled a handkerchief out of his ear.
"The point is," I commenced, sopping a piece of bread in the thick gravy, "if I were to betray the confidence involved I couldnt hope to continue my connection and I'd lose my chances to benefit from this remarkable discovery."
"Balls," exclaimed Gootes. "Forget the spiel. I'm not a prospect for your lawn tonic."
I disregarded the interruption. "I'm not a mercenary man and I believe in enlightening the public to the fullest extent compatible with decency. I'm willing to make a sacrifice for the general good, yet I—"