"Known Jack long?" Peaches was becoming nothing if not personal.
"Long enough," smiled Racey.
"Lookit here, who are you?"
"That's what's worryin' McFluke," dodged Racey, wishing that he could see just what it was McFluke was doing with his hands.
But McFluke was employing his hands in nothing more dangerous than the fetching of a bottle from some recess under and behind the bar. Now he laughed.
"He ain't tellin' all he knows," he said to Peaches Austin. "Don't be so damn suspiciony, Peaches. He's a friend of Jack's, I tell you. He knows all about the deal."
"That don't make him no friend of Jack's," declared Peaches, stubbornly. "I—"
At which juncture Peaches' flow of language was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Chuck Morgan. Chuck, after a sweeping glance round the room, headed straight for the bar.
"McFluke," said Chuck, halting a yard from the bar, "did you sell any redeye to Old Man Dale to-day?"
"What's that to you?" demanded McFluke, truculently.