“Oh,” said Cohen, “that's the game, is it?”
“That's the game right enough. You won't go wrong if you bring me in, even at fifty-fifty, because maybe I know things about old Huang that you don't know.”
The Jew's expression changed subtly, and beneath his drooping lids he glanced aside at the speaker. Then:
“It's no promise,” he said, “but what do you know?”
Poland bent farther over the table.
“Chinatown's being watched again. I heard this morning that Red Kerry was down here.”
Cohen laughed.
“Red Kerry!” he echoed. “Red Kerry means nothing in my young life, Jim.”
“Don't 'e?” returned Jim, snarling viciously. “The way he cleaned up that dope crowd awhile back seemed to show he was no jug, didn't it?”
The Jew made a facial gesture as if to dismiss the subject.