"Where can a soi-disant virgin get plastered New Year's Eve?" Miss Bleutcher inquired.
"You're going to be in town over New Year's?"
"I'm going to be on the town New Year's ... after Four-Buckle Arctics corks off."
"Who?"
Olga Bleutcher motioned with her head toward her father. "I'm going to pour myself into a strapless and come to no good. Have you got any suggestions?"
"I've got a basic suggestion, but I also have a show to worry about tomorrow night," Lennox stalled. "I'll phone. What's the password? Metatarsal?"
She laughed. "Bunions. No, leave a message for me at the switchboard. Just say it's for Olga. They understand a gal's problems."
After five minutes more of New Year's preview, Lennox managed to detach her from his anatomy and return to the table. As they sat down, a waiter appeared and presented a telephone message to Bleutcher who read it carefully, then excused himself and lumbered toward the hotel phones. Olga at once took a cigarette from Grabinett's pack, picked up her handbag and departed for the woman's lounge. Lennox and Grabinett were left alone.
There was a long pause. Finally Grabinett lifted his eyes and blinked into Jake's hard, level gaze.
"If you don't want any trouble, don't say anything," Lennox warned.