"Let him go!" bellowed Lawlor. "Let him come on. Don't hold him. I ain't
had work for my hands for five years. I need exercise, I do."
The mouth of Jansen stirred, but no words came. A hopeless yearning was
in his eyes. But he dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel.
"I thought," growled Lawlor, "that you knew your master, but don't make
no mistake again. Speakin' personal, I don't think no more of knockin'
down a Swede than I do of flickin' the ashes off'n a cigar."
He indulged in a side glance at Bard to see if the latter were properly
impressed, but Anthony was staring blankly straight before him, unable,
to all appearances, to see anything of what was happening.
"Kilrain," went on Lawlor, "trot out some cigars. You know where they're
kept."
Kilrain falling to the temptation, asked: "Where's the key to the
cabinet?"
For Drew kept his tobacco in a small cabinet, locked because of long
experience with tobacco-loving employees. Lawlor started to speak,
checked himself, fumbled through his pockets, and then roared: "Smash
the door open.
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