not only could act and give orders but who could plan.
"I just got out of the army two days ago," explained Tony without preliminaries. "And I want to get in this racket. I'd like to join up with you."
"Yes?" Who are you?" asked Lovo with the natural suspicion of his kind.
"Tony—Camonte." His former identity was dead; he intended to let it remain so.
"Ever been with any mob before?" Lovo's keen eyes were examining him thoroughly.
"Yes, sir. I was Klondike O'Hara's main lieutenant before the war. But of course I don't want that known now; I want to forget it."
"Don't blame you. That was small time stuff."
"Not so small," defended Tony quickly. "My end used to run around three hundred a week."
"Really?" Lovo was viewing him with heightened interest. "You must have been clever."
"I was," admitted Tony frankly, then added proudly: "And I never pulled any rough stuff either, no second-story jobs or stick-ups or anything like that."
"I understand," smiled Lovo. Already his quick mind had seen the picture of Tony's former activities. "And I think you may be very valuable to
