“I'll give you your choice,” she went on. “You can work with me. fifty-fifty, or I'll have Tom Sung beheaded. And then you'll be out a meal ticket. And all your expenses with Tom up to now. And the three thousand you lost to the Kanes.”
“You don't know what you're talking about! I haven't even seen Tom Sung in twenty-four hours.”
“That's another lie. He was in your room this morning.”
“How do you know that? Say, if Jim Watson's been talking....”
“He hasn't, Tex. I've got my information—and there's a lot of if—from Kato the Japanese. Go and talk to him, if you like. Or to your friends the Kanes.”
Connor, the color gone from his face now, looked steadily down at her. Slowly he drew from an inner pocket a gold-mounted case of alligator skin and selected a fresh cigar, lighting it on the stump of the old one. Finally he said:
“Dix, I'm taking some rough talk from you. But never mind—now. You say you know where the stuff is, but you won't tell me.”
“Not now. I'll keep that information to trade with, Tex.”
“Well and good. I'll tell you that you can't get it without a little help from me. And you're not going to get it. Tell me where it is, and I'll put it through and split with you. It'll have to be pretty quick, too. If you won't, you don't get your loot. And you give up my boy Tom—”
“What'll you do, Tex?” She was faintly smiling.