Dillon nodded his head. “I thought you were a bright guy. Maybe you have lost your peepers, but you still got some brain.”
Butch said again, “You want the house, huh? Near the State line. Me as a cover?”
“You got it.” Dillon relaxed a little. “I ain’t working anythin’ this side of the border. Just quick raids. Nothin’ very big; that’ll come later. Then back under cover here. How do you like that?”
Butch brooded. “What’s it worth?” he asked at last.
“Twenty-five per cent cut on everything.”
Butch nodded. “Okay.”
Dillon asked abruptly: “This guy Gurney—is he all right?”
Butch nodded. “He’d come in, I guess,” he said. “Gurney’s after the big dough. He ain’t particular how he makes it.”
“I’ll have a word with him later. Now this guy Franks. There’s only one way to deal with him. He’s gotta have a scare thrown in him, see? He’s got to be tipped off that he gets it if he doesn’t take a dive. The first thing is to square the Town Marshal How’d you stand with him?”
“He’s an old bird Sell his soul for a buck. He can be squared.”