Jakie took a little green bottle with a glass stopper from his pocket. He said to the girl: “It’s acid. Burns, you know; eats into things. Makes holes in your skin.”
The girl crouched back. She tried to speak, but she could only make a terrified whimpering noise.
“If I throw this at you,” Jakie said simply, “it’ll spoil your pretty face. I just want you to be sensible and do what you’re told. If you try and get tough, then you’ll get this in your mug, see? Otherwise, you’ll be all right.”
Pugsey giggled again.
“Maybe we’d better toss for it,” Jakie said, taking a dime out of his pocket.
Pugsey called and won. Jakie got up and dusted down his suit. He put the little bottle in his pocket. Then he looked at the girl with his cold, unfeeling eyes. “I got it here,” he said, patting his pocket, “be good. I ain’t tellin’ you a second time. One dame didn’t believe me. Remember how she squawked, Pugsey? Remember how she ran down the street with the stuff stripping the meat off her face? She was a dope, wasn’t she? Be smart, sister. We ain’t going to be long.”
Pugsey walked over to her and pulled her to her feet. She cringed from him, but she didn’t try to run away.
Jakie sat with his back to a tree, his black hat over his nose, and a cigarette dangling from his thin lips. His little eyes kept watch over the park, missing nothing.
When Pugsey got through, Jakie went over to the girl, and Pugsey kept watch. Pugsey had to stuff his handkerchief in his mouth to stop his giggles when the girl began crying. He was mighty glad that she hadn’t done that when he was with her. Jakie had betted him a dollar that she would be too scared to cry. It amused Pugsey to think he’d won a dollar from Jakie, because Jakie hated giving money away.
They left the girl on the mound and walked back to the boating-pond. Jakie gave Pugsey the dollar rather sourly.