last night. An' be there, baby, or there'll be hell to pay."
The rest of the day Tony spent in making an inventory of all his "rackets" or ways of making money, with a few calls putting into smooth running order those that he had neglected somewhat recently and with other calls starting brand-new ones which were not a bit popular with the unwilling customers but which were going to be profitable to him. From now on he could afford to be interested only in the most profitable ones because he had a hunch that Vyvyan was going to be a mighty expensive proposition.
Lounging early that evening in his usual poolroom hang-out, Tony looked up in surprise as an ugly wop slunk into the next chair and nudged him.
"Well?" said Tony coldly.
"You're Tony Guarino, ain't you?"
"Yeah. What of it?"
"Just this. If you go out with Al Spingola's moll again, you won't last a week. An dat's from de boss himself."
"What do you mean?" demanded Tony, though he knew well enough.
"Don't be dumb. Dey'll find you in an alley some night wit' your t'roat cut."
