There were illustrated sporting papers on the table, crumpled and ragged.
"Well, young feller, watcher want ?" demanded the man, withont removing his feet from the table or his hat from his head.
Ditson closed the door.

He was very pale and somewhat agitated.
"Are we all alone ?" he asked, choking a bit over the question.
"Dat's wot we are," nodded the professor.
"Is it a sure thing that our conversation cannot be overheard ?" "Dead sure." Ditson hesitated.

He seemed to find it difficult to express himself just as he desired.
"Speak right out, chummy," said Kelley in a manner intended to be reassuring.

"I rudder t'inks yer wants ter lick some cove, an' yer've come ter me ter put yer in shape ter do der job.

Well, you bet yer dough I'm der man ter do dat.