"We got enough of the old stuff on hand now, and that bum break Gregor made when he pinched the cracked plate put the finish on that.

Say, Cap--" "Close your face, Whitie, and get the works out!" Malone cut in shortly.
"We've only got the whole night ahead of us--but we'll need it all.
We're going to run the queer off that cracked plate." One of the others, Marty Dean this time, a certain brutal aggressiveness in both features and physique, edged forward.
"Say, what's the lay ?" he demanded.

"A joke?
We printed one fiver off that plate--and then we knew enough to quit.

With that crack along the corner, you couldn't pass 'em on a blind man! And Gregor saying he thought we could patch the plate up enough to get by with gives me a pain--he's got jingles in his dome factory! Run them fivers eh--say, are you cracked, too ?" "Aw, forget it!" observed Malone caustically.

"Who's running this gang ?" Then, with a malicious grin: "I got a customer for those fivers--fifteen thousand dollars for all we can turn out to-night.