I don't care two straws how it is. But you'd be a damned
fool. I'll say that for you."
"I'm not going to let an innocent man suffer in my place. It wouldn't
be playing the game."
Durand leaned forward and tapped the table with his finger-tips. His
voice rasped like a file. "You can't save him. He's goin' to get it
right. But you can hurt yourself a hell of a lot. Get out of the
country and stay out till it's over with. That's the best thing you
can do. Go to the Hawaiian Islands, man. That's a good healthy
climate an' the hotel cooking's a lot better than it is at Sing Sing."
"I can't do it," moaned the clubman. "My God, man, if it ever came
out--that I'd paid you money to--to--ruin his reputation, and that I'd
run away when I could have saved an innocent man--I'd be done for. I'd
be kicked out of every club I'm in."
"It won't ever come out if you're not here. But if you force my
hand--well, that's different." Again Jerry's grin slit his colorless
face. He had this poor devil where he wanted him, and he was enjoying
himself.
"What do you want me to do, then?" cried Bromfield, tiny beads of
perspiration on his forehead.
"You'll do as I say--beat it outa the country till the thing's over
with."
"But Lindsay will talk."
"The boob's padlocked his mouth. For some fool reason he's protectin'
you. Get out, an' you're safe."
Bromfield sweated blood as he walked up and down the room looking for a
way out of his dilemma.
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