Swearengen: Did he come to you by different path, Mr. Hearst? Did he somehow circumnavigate to bring my reply to you without me seeing?
Hearst: What are you talking about?
Swearengen: Your man went out the back of my fuckin' place and I've been hoping against hope, for reasons beyond my understanding, that it was to return to you unseen by me.
Hearst: He is not returned.
Swearengen: Jesus Christ! Maybe he was telling the truth. That he was lighting out to fuckin' Bismarck. Jesus Christ allmighty. Did you and he have some kind of misunderstanding, sir, that he took for pretext the letter's delivery to make his fuckin' escape? Well then I say, Mr. Hearst, you are well the fuck rid of that cocksucker. That he'd show so little loyalty or sense of responsibility to the delivery of communications.. Jesus Christ allmighty, where do we find good help?
Lausleg þýðing: ,,Ég drap sendiboðann þinn. Farðu í rassgat."