’em up—an’ don’t let me have ter tell yer again, neither.”
Slowly Val’s hands went up into the air. “To what are we indebted for the honor of this—er—visitation,” lie asked. “You didn’t—er—send up your cards, nor were you announced by the butler,” he bantered, sparring for time, but his eyes were contracted to pinpoints and his square jaw had hardened angularly.
“Never mind all that guff,” ordered the gangster. “Stand right where you are and be quiet. Come in boys,” he called to the rest of the gang. “Keep them up there, you!” he directed Eddie, who was standing a little to the left of Val and had shown signs of being tired of the position. “If this here cannon goes off, you’re liable ter git an awful headache, t’say nothin’ of catchin’ cold account ’er th’ air bein’ let through yer.”
“Just what can I do to oblige you boys?” asked Val pleasantly. “If there is any little thing I can do, any little favor, why, just say the word⸺”
“Yes, yer kin keep mum an’ move over here till I relieves yer of any stray gats yer may have about yer poison, git me?” Val nodded, his hands up in the air, and half turned to glance at Eddie, who had remained suspiciously quiet and immobile. Their eyes met, and in that brief glance he told him to be ready to jump for it at an instant’s notice—to hold himself prepared for anything.
The men gathered around them as Val moved forward the center of the room, right under the gas jet. He made a motion as though to lower his hands.
“Keep dem fins up a minit you!” ordered the little
