"All right, all right," he grumbled. "Look, you take the other things
for six thousand--including what you got in your pockets that you
don't think I know about, see? And I'll throw this in. How about it?"
That was fine as far as I was concerned, but just on principle I
pushed him a little further. "Forget it," I said. "I'll give you fifty
bills for the lot, take it or leave it. Otherwise I'll walk right down
the street to Gimbel's and--"
He guffawed.
"Whats the matter?" I demanded.
"Pal," he said, "you kill me. Stranger in town, hey? You can't go
anyplace but here."
"Why not?"
"Account of there _ain't_ anyplace else. See, the chief here don't
like competition. So we don't have to worry about anybody taking their
trade elsewhere, like--we burned all the other places down."
That explained a couple of things. I counted out the money, loaded the
stuff back in the wheelbarrow and headed for the Statler; but all the
time I was counting and loading, I was talking to Big Brainless; and
by the time I was actually on the way, I knew a little more about this
"chief."
And that was kind of important, because he was the man we were going
to have to know very well.