“And that’s why you sent Sonny Boy to bring me in?”
Lansing made a clipped gesture.
“I was upset. So now I’m sorry. No hard feelings, Saint. Believe me, a partnership with me will pay you a lot more than the lousy ten grand you’re asking for hush money. It wouldn’t be just this joint. I could give you a cut in everything, all over town — sports areas, bookies, numbers — the works.”
Simon fished out a cigarette with his right hand and arched an eyebrow over his lighter.
“Even in the Shakespearean drama too?”
The other man blinked.
“Huh? Oh — that.” He smiled again, deprecatingly, with the corners of his mouth turned down. “Just a present for my wife. If she wants to play Shakespeare she can play Shakespeare. I can afford it. It might even make money. There aren’t many things I can’t afford, and most of ’em make money sometime. I can afford you, and make money for both of us. The two of us together could really clean up.”
“I appreciate the compliment,” said the Saint. “But there’s one hitch.”
“What’s that?”
“I wasn’t the guy who tried to blackmail you.”