KELLY:  You don’t want to go to jail for a rat like that.

FALLON:  I don’t mean to go to jail, and, I don’t mean to die, either.  For the last six years I’ve been living on melted ice and bacon.  Now, I’m worth seven million dollars.  I’m thirty-five years old and my life is in front of me.  And, I don’t mean to waste one hour of it in a jail, and I don’t mean to let any blackmailer take it away from me.

KELLY:  You don’t want no judge to take it away from you, either! 
You’re not in the Klondike.

FALLON:  I guess, I’ve got a right to defend myself, anywhere.

KELLY:  Yes, but you’ll get excited and—­

FALLON:  (Quietly.) I?  Excited?  I never get excited.  The last time I was excited was when I was seven years old, and the circus came to town.

KELLY:  Don’t mix up in this.  What am I here for?

FALLON:  You won’t be here.  How can you help me in that room, when a fellow’s pumping lead into my stomach in this one?

KELLY:  He won’t pump no lead.

FALLON:  (Carelessly.) I hope not.  But, if he does, he’s got to do it awful quick. (Motions towards centre door.) Now, you go in there and shut the door, and I’ll talk out here.  And you tell me if you can hear what I say? (KELLY goes into bedroom and closes door.  FALLON walks to door R. with his back turned towards KELLY.) Have you got the door shut tight?

KELLY:  (From bedroom.) Yes.

FALLON:  (Speaks in a loud tone, to an imaginary person.) No, not another penny.  If I pay you, will you promise not to take the story to the newspapers?  I give you this thousand dollars—­(Turns towards centre door.  KELLY opens door.) Could you hear me?

KELLY:  Yes, I could hear you, but he won’t talk that loud.  You put him in that chair (Points to Morris chair.)—­so that he’ll sit facing me, and you stand over there (Points at safe.)—­so then he’ll have to speak up.

FALLON:  I see.  Are you all ready?

KELLY:  Yes. (KELLY closes door.  FALLON goes to desk.  Lifts both guns from his pocket an inch or two, and then takes receiver from telephone.  To ’phone.) Give me the cafe, please.  Is this the cafe?  There’s a Mr. Mohun down there waiting to hear from Mr. Fallon—­yes.  All right.  Tell him to come up. (KELLY opens door.)

KELLY:  Hist.  Listen, this guy knows what he’s up against; he knows it might land him in Sing Sing and he’ll be leery of this door being shut.  So, if he insists on looking in here, you speak up loud, and say, “That’s my bedroom.  It’s empty.”  Say it quick enough to give me time to get out into the hall.

FALLON:  I see.

KELLY:  Then, when he’s had his look around, you slam the door shut again, and I’ll come back into the bedroom.  Have you got it?

FALLON:  I understand. (In loud voice.) That’s my bedroom.  It’s empty.