The skid at which he had pointed was loaded with cases of M504 submachine guns.
Why, man alive, Skid's one of the chaps that's runnin' your old gent's trust.
They're givin' a farewell dinner dance for her, and Skid is on the list.
"I'm getting twenty-five a week," says Skid, lookin' him straight between the eyes.
Skid he flushes some behind the ears; but he only bows and ...