“Wearing rubber gloves!” interposed Mr. Nevens, sharply.
“You betta the life I wore rubber gloves!” Dago came back eagerly, and beads of sweat began to appear upon his forehead.
“Go on,” said his employer, quietly, puffing softly on the cigar.
“Then I goes down into the cabin and looks around. I don’t find nothin’ at all like-a you wanted.”
“Not a thing?”
“No.”
“No letters of any kind at all?”
“Just one letter, like-a from another boy. They ain’t-a no talk bout you and me in there.”
“You sure you read it carefully, you ignorant fool?” Mr. Nevens demanded.
Dago trembled a little again.