“Fine!” exclaimed Jimmy. “You’re a regular fellow all right.”
“But you might not like the job,” suggested the Lizard.
“As long as I can earn an honest dollar,” cried Jimmy, striking a dramatic pose, “I care not what it may be.”
The Lizard’s grin broadened.
“I ain’t so sure about that,” he said. “I know your kind. You’re a regular gent. There is some honest jobs that you would just as soon have as the smallpox, and maybe this is one of them.”
“What is it?” asked Jimmy. “Don’t keep me guessing any longer.”
“You know Feinheimer’s Cabaret.”
“The basement joint on Wells Street?” asked Jimmy. “Sure I know it.”
“Well, that’s where I got you a job,” said the Lizard.
“What doing?” asked Jimmy.