Granquist was watching him intently.
“I made that arrangement this afternoon.” Kells leaned side-wise slowly and put his empty glass on an end table.
The fat man looked at Fenner and Kells, and then he looked at Granquist, and at the bag tucked into the chair beside her. He said: “That’s a dandy. Let’s have a look at it, girlie.”
Granquist stood up in one swift and precise movement. She moved to the window so swiftly that the fat man had only time to stand up and take one step toward her before she had moved the drape aside with her shoulder, crashed the bag through the window.
Glass tinkled on the sill.
Kells stood up in the same instant and brought his right fist up from the divan in a long arc to the side of the gray-faced young man’s jaw. The young man spun half around and Kells swung his right fist again to the same place. The young man fell half on the divan, half on the floor.
The fat man moved toward Kells, stopped in the center of the floor.
Granquist yelled: “Smack him, Gerry...”
Kells stood with his feet wide apart. He grinned at the fat man.
Fenner was standing near Granquist at the window. His eyes were wide and he tried to say something but the words stuck in his throat.