"Oh, I guess there's enough to make you sweat," Clancy cut in brutally. "You give me the icy paw, and I'll see that the tip leaks out from the right quarters that you _are_ a stool pigeon. That'll take care of your finish, too, won't it--good and plenty!"
Smarlinghue stared miserably. Again and again his tongue circled his lips. Twice he tried to speak--and only succeeded in mumbling inarticulately.
Clancy got up from the table, walked around it, and, standing over the crouched figure in the chair, tapped with his finger on the hypodermic in Smarlinghue's hands.
"And that ain't all," he announced with a malicious grin. "You come in and play the game with me, or I'll fix it so that you'll never get another squirt of dope if you had a million bucks to buy it with--ah, I thought that would get you!"
Smarlinghue was on his feet. The terror of the damned was in his face.
"No! No! My God--no--not that! You--you wouldn't do that!" He reached out his arms to the other.
"You know--I've gone too far to do without it. If I didn't have it, I--"
"I've seen a few of them in that sort of jim-jams," said Clancy malevolently. "You can't tell me anything about it. If you appreciate it, that's enough--it's up to you. You heard what I said. If you're looking for that particular kind of hell, go to it. Only don't kid yourself. When I pass the word to put the screws on, the lid's down for keeps. Well, what's the answer? Coming across? Quick now! I haven't got all night to spend here!"
Smarlinghue's hands were trembling violently; he sat down in his chair in a pitiful, uncertain way.
"Yes, yes!" he whispered. "_Yes!_ I got to do it. I'll do it, Mr. Clancy, I'll do it! I'll--I'll do anything!"
A half leer, half scowl was on Clancy's face, as he stood regarding the other.
"I thought you would!" he grunted roughly. "Well then, we'll get down to business--and _to-night's_ business. You know the back entrance to Malay John's hang-out?"
Smarlinghue's eyes widened a little in a startled way. He nodded his head.
"Very good," said Clancy gruffly. "_You'll_ have no trouble in getting in there. And once in there you'll have no trouble in getting up to Malay's private den. I've been wised up that Malay and a few of his pals are getting ready to pull off a little game uptown. I want the dope on it--_all_ of it. They've been meeting in Malay's den for the last few nights--understand? They drift in between half past eleven and twelve--you get there a little _before_ halfpast eleven. You haven't anything to be afraid of, so don't lose your nerve. Malay himself is away this evening and won't be back before midnight; and the door won't be locked, as otherwise the others couldn't get in. Everything's clear for you. Savvy? Once you're in the room, there's plenty of places to hide--and that's all you've got to do, except keep your ears and eyes open. Get the lay?"