They sat in the big living room and Fenner poured drinks. He poured three drinks and leaned back and asked: “Where’s the little lady?”
“She’ll be up in a few minutes.”
Someone came out of the bathroom and through the bedroom. Fenner got up and introduced the dark medium-sized man that came in. “This is Bob Jeffers — God’s gift to Womanhood... Mister Kells.”
Kells stood up and shook hands with Jeffers. He was a motion-picture star who had had a brief and spectacular career; had been on the way out for nearly a year. He was drunk. He said: “It is a great pleasure to meet a real gunman, Mister Kells.”
Kells glanced at Fenner and Fenner shook his head slightly, smiled apologetically. Kells sat down and sipped his whiskey.
Jeffers said: “I’m going up and get Lola.” He took up his glass and went unsteadily out of the room, through the hallway, out the outer door.
“You mustn’t mind Jeffers.”
Kells said: “Sure.” Then he leaned back in his chair and stared vacantly at Fenner. “Have you got twenty-five grand in cash?”
Fenner looked at him very intently. Then he smiled slowly and shook his head. “No,” he said. “Why?”
“Can you get it — tonight?”