He
felt that Yada was yielding--oppressed by a fear of the unknown. But
suddenly Yada paused--drawing back from the hand which Melky had kept on
his arm.
"What are you after?" he demanded. "What is your game, eh? You think to
alarm me!--what do you want?"
"Nothing unreasonable, mister," answered Melky. "You'll easily satisfy me.
Game? Come, now, mister--I know your game! Bank first--to get some ready--
then somewhere to pick up a bit of luggage--then, a railway station.
That's it, ain't it, now? No blooming good, mister--they're ready for you
the minute you walk into that bank! If they don't take you then, they'll
only wait to follow you to the station. Mister!--you ain't a cat's
chance!--you're done--if you don't make it worth my while to help you!
See?"
Yada looked round, doubtfully. They had turned two or three corners by
that time, and were in a main street, which lay at the back of Praed
Street. He glanced at Melky's face--which suggested just then nothing but
cunning and stratagem.
"What can you do for me?" he asked. "How much do you want? You want money,
eh?"
"Make it a hundred quid, mister," said Melky.
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