"Not much. I told you I'd get ye a real chance--" "Why," cried Spike, "if I was t' lick Young Alf, I'd be in line t' meet th' top-notchers!" "Sure--if you lick him!" nodded M'Ginnis grimly. "Say," said Spike, his face radiant, "I've just been waitin' an' waitin' for a chance like this--a chance t' show you an' th' bunch I can handle myself, an' now"--he stopped all at once, and shaking his head gloomily, turned away. "I forgot, I--I can't, Bud." "Aw, what's bitin' ye?" "I can't come t'night." "Won't come, ye mean!" "Can't, Bud." "Why not?" "I promised Hermy t' quit fightin'--" "Is that all? Hermy don't have t' know nothin' about it. This is a swell chance for ye, Kid, the best you'll ever get, so just skin over t'night an' don't say nothin' t' nobody." "I--can't, Bud--that's sure." "Goin' t' give me d' throw-down, are ye?" "I don't mean it that ways, Bud, but I can't break my promise t' Hermy--" "She'd never know." "She'd find out some ways; she always does, and I can't lie t' her." "So you won't come, hey? We ain't classy enough for ye these days, hey? I guess goin' to an office every day is one thing an' crackin' a millionaire's crib's another." "Cheese it, Bud, cheese it!" gasped Spike, pale and trembling. "Right-o, Kid!" nodded M'Ginnis, "but I've been wantin' t' know how ye made your get-away that night." "Oh, quit--quit talkin' of it!" Spike panted. "I--I want t' forget all about it. I been tryin' t' think it never happened." "Ah, but you know it did," said M'Ginnis, "an' I know it, an' Soapy knows it did--don't yer, Soapy?" "'S' right!" nodded Soapy, his voice soft, his eyes hard and malevolent. "So we kinder want t' know," continued M'Ginnis, heedless always of those baleful watching eyes, "we just want t' get on t' how you--" "Oh, say--give it a rest!" cried Spike desperately. "Give it a rest, can't ye?" "Why, then, Kid, what about comin' over t' O'Rourke's t'night?" Spike wrung his hands. "If Hermy finds out, she'll--cry, I guess--" "Hermy!" growled M'Ginnis, black brows fierce and scowling, "a hell of a lot you care for Hermy, I--don't think!" "Say now, you Bud, whatcher mean?" demanded Spike, quivering with sudden anger. "Just this, Kid--what kind of a brother are ye t' go lettin' that noo pal o' yours--that guy you call Geoff--go sneaking round her morning, noon, an' night?" "You cut that out, Bud M'Ginnis. Geoff don't! Geoff ain't that kind." "He don't, eh? Well, what about all this talk that's goin' on--about him an' her, an' her an' him--eh?" "What talk?" demanded Spike, suddenly troubled. "Why, every one's beginnin' t' notice as they're always meetin' on th' stairs--an' him goin' into her flat, an' them talkin' an' laughin' together when you're out o' th' way--ah," growled M'Ginnis, between grinding white teeth, "an' likely as not kissin' an' squeezin' in corners--"