“What’s the game, Spotter?” he demanded. “I want the guy. Are you trying to hold out on me?”
“That ain’t it, Reds. I know just the guy you need. But I don’t know where he is.
“I ain’t mistrustin’ you, Reds; but all I can do is tell his name right now. How do I know you ain’t goin’ to get him on your own hook, after you know who he is?”
“So that’s the trouble.” Reds Mackin snorted. “Well, I’ll fix that. You know where you can get a bird like the one I want. Are there any others as good as he?”
“No. Just the one. And listen, Reds” — Spotter spoke knowingly — “there ain’t many fellows knows how good this guy is.
“You might ask plenty of ‘em — just like you asked me — and they wouldn’t think of this guy at all. Because he’s smooth, Reds. Like a card shark. He don’t show his stuff to the crowd. Keeps it hid.”
* * *
Reds Mackin pulled two fifty-dollar bills from his pocket. He passed them to Spotter with his right hand.
“Here, Spotter,” he said. “These are yours. Just for giving me the guy’s name. That’s all. If I can get hold of him — either through you or any one else, there’ll be a hundred more for you.
“Maybe” — he spoke rather cautiously — “you’ll get another chunk of real dough, later on. You’re safe in this, Spotter. I don’t want you to do anything else. You don’t have to be around, even, when I meet the guy.”