“Breslau. Or some skirt, maybe.”
“What’s Breslau?”
“Search me. He’s a Dutchman or a Rooshian or some sort of Dodo. What do you care?”
“I don’t. All right, Ben. You’ve got to show me; that’s all.” 274
“Show you what?”
“Spot cash!”
“You’re in when you handle it?”
“If you show me real money—yes.”
“You’re on. I’ll cash a cheque of Quint’s for you at Monroe’s soon as we hit the asphalt! And when you finish counting out your gold nickels put ’em in your pants and play the game! Is that right?”
“Yes.”