“There’s certainly nothing we could tell the police now,” Ken said. “Of course, if we hung around the Tobacco Mart again tonight—after we’d convinced our friend out there that we’d gone meekly off to Brentwood—we might find something interesting.”
Sandy’s glare cut him off. “That is the kind of suggestion,” he said loftily, “that has, in the past, landed us in some unpleasant situations.”
Ken grinned. “That’s right. And also, quite often, into some pretty exciting yarns. For which we have earned a reputation. Not to mention,” he added, “sizable checks.”
“Money is not everything,” Sandy informed him. “And reputation is not everything, either.”
“I’ll toss you for it,” Ken said, pulling a quarter out of his pocket. “Heads, we make one more quick survey of the Tobacco Mart tonight. Tails, we forget the whole business.”
Sandy was still maintaining his air of firm disinterest. “You are taking advantage of my well-known sportsman’s instinct,” he said. “I cannot refuse to toss you for it, but I insist upon going on record as opposed to the whole idea.”
Ken handed him the coin. Sandy flicked it up in the air with his thumb and watched it as it fell to the table.
“Tails it is,” Ken announced. “All right, we forget the whole business.” He attacked his steak. “This is certainly good, isn’t it?” he remarked conversationally.
“How can you eat at a time like this?” Sandy demanded. “Aren’t you interested in the outcome of the coin tossing?” And when Ken looked up at him, with an air of puzzlement, Sandy added, “I thought it was understood that I would toss for two out of three.”
“Oh.” Ken grinned. “Was it?”