The captain spoke again as Kells went through the door: “Where was you last night?”
Kells turned. “I was drunk. I don’t remember.” His eyes glittered with amusement.
The big man looked at him and his face wrinkled slowly to a grin. “Me too,” he said. He slapped his thigh and laughed — a terrific crashing guffaw. His laughter followed Kells and Beery down the stairs, through the corridor, echoing and re-echoing.
Beery said: “See you in church.”
Kells went out into the sunlight, walked down First to Broadway, up Broadway to his bank.
The teller told him he had a balance of five thousand, one hundred and thirty dollars. He asked that the account be transferred to a New York bank, then changed his mind.
“I’ll take it in cash.”
The teller gave him five thousand-dollar notes, a hundred, a twenty and a ten-dollar bill. Kells took the sheaf of twenty-four new hundred-dollar bills out of his pocket and exchanged twenty of them for two more thousand-dollar notes. He folded the seven thousand-dollar notes and put them in a black pin-seal cardcase, put the case in his inside breast pocket. He put the five hundreds and the smaller bills in his trouser pocket and went out and got into a cab.
He said “Ambassador” and looked at his watch. It was two-forty; he had three hours and twenty minutes to get home and pack and make the Chief.
“Gerry.” Granquist called to him as he crossed the lobby.