"O.K., Jake. Come around the other side."
The man followed instructions. He opened the door on the far side of the coupe. A flashlight shone in his hand. Its rays showed the bound form of Harry Vincent.
Harry's form was toppling outward as the door opened. Jake thrust the body back with a rough motion.
"Lucky the door didn't come open, Whitey," he said. "This bimbo would have landed in the road."
"What if he had?" was the retort. "You was comin' along, wasn't you? You coulda picked him up!"
"Well, you got 'im here easy enough," said Jake. "This is a nifty spot for a bump-off.
Kinda close to the Green Mill, though. Think it's a good idea to give him the works here?"
"There's never been a comeback from a job pulled here," replied "Whitey." "There won't be, neither — not for twenty or thirty years, anyway."
There was a peculiar significance in the man's voice that impressed his companion. Jake satisfied himself that Harry was too securely bound to effect an escape. Then he emerged from his side of the car, and walked around to join the other man.
He plucked Whitey by the sleeve, and drew him to the front of the coupe. There he began a low conversation.