"
Zerkow sat back in his chair, staring at her.
"Why, your people's gold dishes, what they used to eat off of. You've
told me about it a hundred times."
"You're crazy, Zerkow," said Maria. "Push the bottle here, will you?"
"Come, now," insisted Zerkow, sweating with desire, "come, now, my girl,
don't be a fool; let's have it, let's have it. Begin now, 'There were
more'n a hundred pieces, and every one of 'em gold.' Oh, YOU know; come
on, come on."
"I don't remember nothing of the kind," protested Maria, reaching for
the bottle. Zerkow snatched it from her.
"You fool!" he wheezed, trying to raise his broken voice to a shout.
"You fool! Don't you dare try an' cheat ME, or I'll DO for you. You know
about the gold plate, and you know where it is." Suddenly he pitched his
voice at the prolonged rasping shout with which he made his street cry.
He rose to his feet, his long, prehensile fingers curled into fists. He
was menacing, terrible in his rage. He leaned over Maria, his fists in
her face.
"I believe you've got it!" he yelled. "I believe you've got it, an' are
hiding it from me. Where is it, where is it? Is it here?" he rolled his
eyes wildly about the room.
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