"Youse have given me de short end every time we've pulled a deal!" "Dat letter's mine, youse--" bawled the Wowzer furiously.
"Why didn't youse open it an' read it, den, instead of lettin' me do it to keep me busy while youse short-changed me ?" sneered Dago Jim.

"Youse t'ought it was some sweet billy-doo, eh?
Well, t'anks, Wowzer--dat's wot it is! Say," he mocked, "dere's a guy'll cash a t'ousand century notes fer dis, an' if he don't--say, dere's SOME reward out fer the Gray Seal! Wouldn't youse like to know who it is?
Well, when I'm ridin' in me private buzz wagon, Wowzer, youse stick around an' mabbe I'll tell youse--an' mabbe I won't!" "By God"-- the Wowzer's voice rose in a scream--"youse hand over dat letter!" "Youse go to--" Red, lurid red, a stream of flame seemed to cut across Jimmie Dale's line of vision, came the roar of a revolver shot--and like a madman Jimmie Dale flung his body at the door.

Rickety at best, it crashed inward, half wrenched from its hinges, precipitating him inside.

He recovered himself and leaped forward.

The room was swirling with blue eddies of smoke; Dago Jim, hands flung up, still grasping letter and pocketbook, pawed at the air--and plunged with a sagging lurch face downward to the floor.