Gros and Miche burst into raucous laughter, slapping the table and howling. "At ease, Spider," Miche managed. "Bayard's throwed in with us." At this even Chica snickered.
Spider still crouched. "OK, what's the deal?" he gasped. "I don't get it." He glared around the room, face white. He was scared stiff. Miche wiped his face, whooped a last time, hawked and spat on the floor.
"OK, Spider, as you were," he said. "This here's a ringer. Now you better go bring in the boys. Beat it."
Spider scuttled away. I was puzzled. Why did some of them take one startled look and relax, while this fellow was apparently completely taken in? I had to find out. There was something I was doing wrong.
"Do you mind telling me," I said, "what's wrong with the get-up?" Miche and Gros exchanged glances again.
"Well, my friend," Gros said, "it's nothing we can't take care of. Just take it easy, and we'll set you right. You wanted to step in and take out the Old Man, and sit in for him, right? Well, with the Organization behind you you're as good as in."
"What's the Organization?" I asked.
Miche broke in. "For now we'll ask the questions," he said. "What's your name? What's your play here?"
I looked from Miche to Gros. I wondered which one was the boss. "My name's Bayard," I said.
Miche narrowed his eyes as he rose and walked around the table. He was a big fellow with small eyes.