"Sunk?"
"I'll say we have! Leave it to Jim—Besides," brandishing his cigar, "I ain't no man to go off an leave th' kids in a hole. That stuff don't go down y' know, Taylor. Business 's business, but when it's stealin' from orphans, why that ain't business."
Taylor sat silent, every muscle tensing, letting these ambling suggestions sink in—Harris—Bryant—orphans—this case—
"Sure not," he said watching the youth.
"Course, you know all about it," went on Lucius. "Rowe says you're his friend an' so does Jim. Fine feller, Jim.' He give this advice for nothin' an' even agrees to slip me a little change so's I can go to Detroit when it's all over." He giggled. "An' he slips me a little now so a feller can enjoy himself in a town as flat as a pancake."
Taylor managed to hold his voice steady.
"You'll be pulling stakes soon, then."
"Yup," lowering his voice. "After tomorr' a.m. prob'ly. Y'see, the case comes up at ten in the mornin'. Jim says that's all there'll be to it, just have th' old devil appear in court an' answer my complaint that he ain't done right by Bobby an' Bessy when he lends their money to the Foraker girl."
He rolled the cigar in his lips and nodded importantly.
"Then it'll all be over tomorrow? That will end it?"
"So far's I give a damn it will. It'll ruin Hump', Jim says an' that's all we want. He won't be hornin' into other folk's business, then—"
Lucius giggled. "Tha's all. I don't give damn about th' kids. I don' care what they do to old Bryant. I'm out after th' jack, I am! So's I can get to Detroit an' a real town."
