You're trying to get me figuring on
Chinese death traps, secret poisons, and all that junk. Boy,
you're wasting your poetry. Even if you did see the Chink with
Lala, and I doubt it-- Oh, don't get excited, I'm speaking
plain--there's no connection that I can see between the death of
said Chink and old Huang Chow."
"Ain't there?" growled Poland huskily. He grasped the other's
wrist as in a vise and bent forward so that his battered face was
close to the pale countenance of the Jew. "I've been covering
old Huang for months and months. Now I'm going to tell you
something. Since the death of that Chink Red Kerry's been
covering him, too."
"See here!" Cohen withdrew his arm from the other's grasp
angrily. "You can't freeze me out of this claim with bogey
stuff. You're listed, my lad, and you know it. Chief Inspector
Kerry is your pet nightmare. But if he walked in here right now
I could ask him to have a drink. I wouldn't but I could. You've
got the wrong angle, Jim. Lala likes me fine, and although she
doesn't say much, what she does say is straight. I'll ask her
to-night about the Chink."
"Then you'll be a damned fool."
"What's that?"
"I say you'll be a damned fool. I'm warning you, Freddy.
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