Why should I?" Ken asked. "I had fifty dollars' worth of fun last night. I'm willing to pay."
Following the performance that night, Ken sent for Joe Durazzo. As he entered the dressing-room, Ken locked the door.
"What's up?" the Italian asked.
"How much did you pay the city of Springfield this morning?"
"Ten dollars. Why?"
"I'm not going to ask you any questions, Tootsie. I'm going to sock you in the jaw." Ken's long arm shot out. His bare fist cracked against Durazzo's chin. The chorus man staggered. His eyes opened in amazement.
"Wh—why—"
"No back talk, Joe. I know you took it."
"But Ken—"
"Tell the truth."
"I took it. Eleven dollars—she was blotto. I couldn't help snatching it."
"Sit down."
Ken put a hand on the Italian's shoulder. "I'm going to need you in my business on this trip," he said. "I can have you fired and will, if you misbehave again."
"What do you want me to do?"
First, be honest. If you steal a cigarette from me, I'll have you kicked off the stage by Equity."
O. K. Ken but I didn't know you cared about niggers. What if I did rob the dinge?"
I don t care for them—being a Southerner—but I can't stand a thief. Now there's a couple of other things on my mind. I want you to be my dog robber—take care of my
