"I'd hate to tell you," replied Bonds, grinning and revealing his familiar tobacco-stained teeth.
"Have you got a friend you can trust?"
"Sure, a fellow named Licorice that washes pots in back."
"You don't mean Santop Licorice, do you?"
"Ssh! They don't know who he is here. He's white now, you know."
"Do they know who you are?"
"What do you mean?" gasped the surprised waiter.
"Oh, I won't say anything but I know you're Bonds of New York."
"Who told you?"
"Oh, a little fairy."