"I'll lay you ten to one," Malone said, "that every one of them has skipped out. Left home. Without giving a forwarding address."
Lynch nodded slowly. "Ten to one?" he said. "Want to make that a money bet? Or does the FBI frown on gambling?"
"Ten dollars to your one," Malone said. "O.K.?"
"Made," Lynch said. "You've got the bet ... just for the hell of it, understand."
"Oh, sure," Malone said.
"And where can I call you to collect?"
Malone shook his head. "You can't," he said. "I'll call you."
"I will wait with anxiety," Lynch said. "But it had better be before eight. I get off then."
"If I can make it," Malone said.
"If you can't," Lynch said, "call me at home." He gave Malone the number, and then added: "Whatever