“Lay off that talk, Marty,” said the racketeer. “Lay off — don’t you hear me?”
“Sure thing, I hear you,” responded Marty. “I’ve been hearing you all along. I got you straight, chief—”
“Then get going! Do you understand that?”
“You bet. Lance is ready with the buggy. We’re hustling.”
“That’s all, then. Don’t waste any time with the guy.”
There were two sharp clicks — one when Jennings hung up; the other from the receiver in Flash Donegan’s room. Burbank made an adjustment of the plugs, and spoke in a low voice over the outside wire.
“They have finished,” was all he said.
There was a sibilant reply. Burbank heard a click in his right ear. He removed the head phones. Again, he waited in the darkness of the silent room.
Upstairs, Flash Donegan was talking to himself.
“What was the matter with Marty?” he grumbled. “All he had to do was get the O.K. from me. Asking me how I wanted the guy bumped off. Saying they’d wait for me, when I told him this afternoon that I didn’t want to mix in when they caught any snoopers.