“Never mind.” Duffy got to his feet. “You ought to watch that dame, she’s dangerous.”
Gleason tried to cross his legs, but couldn’t quite make it. He stared down at the carpet. “She’s hop screwy,” he said. “I can’t shake her. She’d stick a knife into me.”
“How much jack have you got?”
Gleason looked up sharply. “You said fifty grand. I got twenty-five here.” He took a long sealed envelope from his inside pocket and laid it on the table.
Duffy looked at the seal, then he said, “Open it.”
Gleason tried twice, but his fingers bothered him. Duffy leant over, took the envelope from him, put his gun down on the table, and tore off the end of the envelope. He shook the contents on to the table and looked at it. Then he picked up the thin sheaf of notes and put it in his pocket. He took the note-book out and tossed it into Gleason’s lap.
Gleason looked at him in complete astonishment. Duffy shook his head. “You expected a double-cross, ain’t that right? I guess you ain’t keeping it long.”
Gleason thumbed through the book as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Duffy went over and picked up Gleason’s gun, took out the clip and then tossed the gun back on the floor. He put his own Colt down his waist-band and adjusted the points of his vest.
Gleason looked up at him. “This is the first level deal that’s happened to me,” he said.
Duffy’s eyes were still hard. “You don’t know a thing. You ain’t going to keep that list long. Morgan’s after it.”