"We might as well clink on it. For I rather opinionate before
we get through this little business--there'll be something worth talking
about."
"Here's to you then, Bucky," said Frawley, nodding.
"Remember what I tell you," said Greenfield, looking over his glass,
"there's going to be something to live for."
"I say, Bucky," said Frawley with a lazy interest, "would they serve you
five-o'clock tea here, I wonder?"
Greenfield, drawing back, laughed a superior laugh.
"Bub, I'm sorry for you--'pon my word I am."
"How so, Bucky?"
"Why, you plodding little English lamb, you don't have the slightest
suspicion what you're gettin' into!"
"What am I getting into, Bucky?"
Greenfield threw back his head with a chuckle.
"If you get me, it'll be the last job you ever pull off."
"Maybe, maybe."
"Since things are aboveboard--listen here," said Greenfield with sudden
seriousness. "Bub, you'll not get me alive. Nothing personal, you
understand, but it'll have to be your life or mine. If it comes to the
pinch, look out for yourself--"
"Oh, yes," said Frawley, with a matter-of-fact nod, "I understand.
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