"On the level, Carter?"
"Yes, on the level, Phil. I mean every word I say."
"Well, I'm the huckleberry that can do it."
"Wait, Phil, before you start, there is one more thing still."
"What! another?"
"Yes. This. After we have gotten safely out of this pickle, and the place has quieted down, it will be up to you to find out for me where Black Madge hangs up her clothes. It is important, Phil, that I should get that woman back into the prison where she belongs."
"I ain't no stool pigeon," grumbled the bartender.
"Neither am I asking you to be a stool pigeon," said the detective. "What I want you to do is simple enough. I am not laying any plans against any of the regular frequenters of this place. It's only Black Madge I want, and you have confessed already that you don't like her. Now, it's up to you if you want to go through this whole job, and do it right. And, Phil, if you will stick to me and see the whole game through the way I have outlined it to you, another thousand goes with the first one."
"Geewhiz! do you mean that?"
"I certainly do."