When the drinks were fixed, and Nightingale had settled himself, Fenner sparred for an opening. He knew he’d have to go carefully with this little guy. He didn’t know how far he could trust him. It was no use getting him suspicious.
He said at last, “How far you carryin’ me?”
Nightingale fingered his glass with his thick weak fingers. He looked a little bewildered. “All the way,” he said. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Fenner stretched out. “I want to get in with the boys. New York’s got too hot for me.”
“I can do that,” Nightingale said simply. “Crotti said you were an all-right guy and I was to help you. Crotti’s been good to me; I’m glad to even things up with him.”
Fenner guessed Crotti was the guy Ike got on to. . “Maybe five C’s would be more concrete than Win’ Crotti,” he said drily.
Nightingale looked a little hurt. “I don’t want your dough,” he said simply. “Crotti said ‘help this man,’ and that’s enough for me.”
Fenner twisted in his chair. It quite shocked him to see that the little man was sincere.
“Swell,” he said hastily. “Don’t get me wrong. Where I come from there’s a different set of morals.”
“I can give you introductions. But what is it exactly that you want?”