You're just the guy
I've been looking for. As far as I can make out, there ain't a dive or a
roost in the Bad Lands where you don't get the glad hand--eh?"
"I--I haven't done anything! Not a thing! I--I swear I haven't!"
Smarlinghue burst out frantically.
"Aw, forget it!" Clancy permitted a thin smile to flicker contemptuously
across his lips. "You've got a whole lot of friends that I'm interested
in. Get the idea? There ain't a crook in New York that's shy of you. You
got a 'stand-in' everywhere." He held up the ten-dollar bill. "There's
more of these--plenty of 'em."
Smarlinghue pushed back his chair now in a frightened sort of way.
"You--you mean you want me for--for a stool pigeon?" he faltered.
"You got it!" said Clancy bluntly.
Smarlinghue's eyes roved about the room in a furtive, terror-stricken
glance, his hand passed aimlessly over his eyes, and he crouched low
down in his chair.
"No, no!" he whispered. "No, no--for God's sake, Mr. Clancy, don't ask
me to do that! I can't--I can't! I--I wouldn't be any good, I--I can't!
I--I won't!"
Clancy thrust head and shoulders aggressively across the table.
"You will--if you know what's good for you!" he said evenly.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25