"That's my reputation, Bucky."
"Give me your word you'll play me square."
Inspector Frawley, leaning forward, helped himself busily. Greenfield, with pursed lips, studied every movement.
"No kidnapping tricks?"
Without lifting his eyes Frawley sharpened his knife vigorously against his fork and fell to eating.
"Well, Bub?"
"What?"
"No fancy kidnapping?"
"I'm promising nothing, Bucky."
There was a blank moment while Greenfield considered. Suddenly he shot out his hand, saying with a nod: "You're a white man, Bub, and I never heard a word against that." He filled a glass and shoved it toward Frawley. "We might as well clink on it. For I rather opinionate before we get through this little business—there'll be something worth talking about."