Green’s apartment was on East Sixty-first; the elevator boy helped him with Sallust, who was beginning to stir and moan feebly; Green explained that he was very drunk and when they reached his apartment on the top floor they put Sallust on one of the divans in the huge living room. The elevator boy went away.
Green turned to Paula. “He’ll be all right in a little while,” he said. “The main thing is that he’s not to show up outside of this place until certain matters — I’m not quite sure what, yet, so I can’t tell you about them — are straightened out. Do you trust me enough to help, and to see to it that he stays here?”
She nodded.
Green smiled slightly. “Your word?”
She nodded again, returned the faint shadow of a smile.
He went towards the door. “I’ll be back or give you a ring as soon as I can. Make yourself at home. If you get hungry or thirsty try the icebox.”
He went out and closed the door.
Downstairs, he admonished the night clerk. “There’re a man and woman in my apartment and I want them to stay there. I think they will, but if they get tough call Mike and let him handle them.”
The clerk nodded; he was accustomed to more or less curious orders from Mister Green. Mike was the janitor, a husky Norwegian who had performed odd jobs of a strong-arm nature for Green upon more than one occasion.
Green turned in the doorway. “And if they make any telephone calls, keep a record of who they call and what they have to say.”