“Yes?”
“The first is, I shall not be a stool.”
“What's that?”
“And the second is, I wouldn't squeal on a pal to you even if I were a crook. And the third is what I said in the beginning: I'm not going to be a crook.”
Barlow's squat, powerful figure arose menacingly. Casey also stood up.
“I tell you you ARE going to be a crook!” Barlow's big fist crashed down on his desk in a tremendous exclamation point. “And you're going to work for me exactly as I tell you!”
“I have already given you my final word,” said Larry.
“You—you—” Barlow almost choked at this quiet defiance. His face turned red, his breath came in a fluttering snarl, his powerful shoulders hunched up as if he were about to strike. But he held back his physical blows.
“That's your ultimatum?”
“If you care to call it so—yes.”