McCarthy stared at him. "What kind of a job?" he growled.
"Something active and out of doors," Darrow answered for him; "streets, water, engineering."
"It's a holdup," said McCarthy sullenly drawing a tablet toward himself, and thrusting the stub of a pencil into his mouth.
"A beneficent and just holdup," added Darrow; "the first of its kind in this city."
McCarthy glared at him malevolently.
"It don't go unless you deliver the goods," he threatened.
"Understood," agreed Darrow.
"What's his name?" demanded McCarthy, withdrawing the pencil stub, and preparing to write.
"His name," answered Darrow, "is John Warford, Junior."
McCarthy started to his feet with a bellow of rage, his face turning purple.