"Well, what do you do for O'Hara?"
"Obey orders."
"Oh, a smart guy, eh?" sneered Flanagan. He slapped Tony again, then reached for his hip as the boy automatically lifted his hands. "Put down your hands, you thug. I'll teach you to have some respect for your betters. Come on now, what's your game—second-story, stick-up or what?"
"I never was in on a stick-up or any other kind of a rough job in my life," retorted Tony proudly.
"Well, just how do you get all these good clothes and the big car I understand you own?"
"I got ways of my own."
"I don't doubt it," agreed Flanagan with dry sarcasm, '"That's what I want to know about—these ways of yours. Come on now, and talk, or I'll have the boys give you a pounding you'll never forget."
"I wouldn't if I were you," answered Tony, his eyes and tone coldly menacing. "I might be a big shot in this town yet—and payin' you off."
"What do you mean—payin' me off?" snarled Flanagan. "Do you mean to say that I could be bought?"
"I don't see why not—all the other dicks can.
