Hopper was smiling savagely. “Hello, Gallegher,” he said. “We’ve been waiting. We weren’t fast enough when this man”—he nodded toward Commander Wall—“came hi, but we waited for a second chance.”
Smeith, his plump face puzzled, said, “Mr. Gallegher, what is this? I rang your buzzer, and then these men surrounded me—”
“It’s O. K.,” Gallegher said. “You’re on top, at least. Look out that window.”
Smeith obeyed. He popped back in again, beaming.
“That hole—”
“Right. I didn’t cart the dirt away, either. I’ll give you a demonstration presently.”
“You will in jail,” Hopper said acidly. “I warned you, Gallegher, that I’m not a man to play around with. I gave you a thousand credits to do a job for me, and you neither did the job nor returned the money.”
Commander Wall was staring, his coffee cup, forgotten, balanced in one hand. An officer moved forward and took Gallegher’s arm.
“Wait a minute,” Wall began, but Smeith was quicker.
“I think I owe Mr. Gallegher some credits,” he said, snatching out a wallet. “I’ve not much more than a thousand on me, but you can take a check for the balance, I suppose. If this—gentleman—wants cash, there should be a thousand here.”