Kells said: “I’m out.”
Crotti leaned back again, studied the gray tip of his cigar. He smiled slowly. “I think you’re in,” he said.
Kells took a little tin box of aspirin out of his pocket, put two tablets on his tongue and washed them down with whiskey.
“You seem to have kept pretty well in touch with things out here.”
Crotti said: “Yes. I sent an operative out a few weeks ago to look things over — a very clever girl...” He took the cigar out of his mouth. “Name’s Granquist.”
Kells sat very still. He looked at Crotti and then he grinned slowly, broadly.
Crotti grinned back. “Am I right in assuming that you were looking for Rose because you thought he had something to do with Miss Granquist’s — uh — escape?”
Kells didn’t answer.
Crotti stood up. “I always take care of my people,” he said as pompously as his squeaky voice would permit. He went to one of the doors, swung it open. The inner room was dark.
Crotti called: “Hey — Swede.”