She sat on the edge of the table and watched him.
“Someone’s going to get mighty sore about this,” she said at last.
Duffy didn’t look up. He went on writing, but he said, “We won’t be there to see ’em.”
When he had finished the list, he went back again to the beginning and studied the pages. “You know what these numbers stand for? Look, Max Hughson 5. Johnny Alvis 7. Trudie Irvine 4.”
She leant over his shoulder. “Payments,” she told him. “Hughson used to pay five thousand dollars a month for his dope and protection ”
“That’s plenty. Why protection?”
Olga swung her long legs. “That was Gleason’s way. These birds aren’t real hopheads. They just play at it. Gleason sold them the dope, then warned them that someone was on to them, and it would cost them so much to hush it up. He only had to put the screw on a little, scare them to hell, and show them that he could warn off all comers, to get himself put on their pension list.”
Duffy did sums, then he looked up. “This little book is worth five hundred grand to a cool million, if they all pay.”
Olga nodded. “When I was with Cattley and he was working it, they mostly did pay,” she said.
Duffy grinned. “It’s easy to make money, it you know how,” he said, getting to his feet. “Well, we’ll see what Morgan’s got to say.”