"
"Pebbles is right! I'm going to dike you out in one as big as a pebble.
And poils! Sa-y, they're what cost the spondulicks. A guy showed me a
string of little ones no bigger than pimples. Know what? That little
string could knock the three spots out of a thousand-dollar bond--I mean
bill!"
It was then that something flashed out of Marylin's face. A shade might
have been lowered; a candle blown out.
"Getaway," she said, with a quick little dig of fingers into his
forearm, "you're up to something!"
"Snuff, I said."
"What did you mean by that word, 'bond'?"
"Who built a high fence around the word 'bond'?"
"Bonds! All that stuff in the newspapers about those messengers
disappearing out of Wall Street with--bonds! Getaway, are you mixed up
in that? Getaway!"
"Well, well! I like that! I had you doped out for fair and warmer
to-day. The weather prophet didn't predict no brainstorm."
"That's not answering."
"Well, whadda you know! Miss Sherlock Holmes finds a corkscrew in the
wine cellar and is sore because it's crooked!"
"Getaway--answer.
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