“My timing was off,” Black said sullenly.

“It was off four times, just enough to bring you home within the point spread. Even with the heavy action on Georgia, it might not mean anything. Add it to the stickup and it means a lot. I’m convinced you threw those four plays, Johnny, and that’s all that matters. Maybe a pro like Colfax could look at the films and spot little changes in your style that would give it away. It’s not necessary. The pro leagues are skittish about gamblers and people who know gamblers. All I have to do is tell Colfax my client’s name, and back it up with some betting totals, and it’s goodbye contract. I don’t need an airtight case, any more than Colfax has to give you a reason for not signing you. All he has to do is say thanks for the warm beer, and blow.”

Black’s face was rigid. He forced the word “Please?” through stiff lips.

“That’s a good sign,” Shayne said. “If you watch the old gangster movies on TV, you may think that Jimmy Cagney and George Raft will come out and work you over with baseball bats. Times have changed. Now they write it off to overhead. But naturally they don’t want it to get to be a habit. Tell me how it happened, Johnny.”

He shook his head shortly. “I can’t. It won’t happen again, I promise you that.”

Shayne made a rude noise. The boy said earnestly, “If I do go with the Warriors, it’s not a question of whether I’d want to, I couldn’t. No one person has that much control.”

“I’m not thinking about you,” Shayne said. “I’m thinking about your contact.” He picked up the phone from the little cabinet between them. “What’s the Lambda Phi number? After that quick con you gave him, I’m sure Colfax is still there.”

Black’s hand darted out and closed the switch. “What would you gain by it?”