Hoppy grunted, “Some heister crashes de Saint’s flat last night. He leaves de rod.”
“Yeah? Who was it?”
“That,” said the Saint amiably, “is what I’d like to know. If you got rid of this gun, what did you do with it?”
Mullins snapped his fingers as if smitten by recollection.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” He reached into his coat, extracted a wallet, and selected a ten and a five. He offered the two bills to Connie. “Here. It’s your dough.”
“Mine?” She didn’t touch the money. “Why?”
“It’s the dough I got for it at th’ hock shop,” he explained. “Ten bucks on the rod — five bucks for the pawn ducat I sell for chips in a poker session the other night.”
She shook her head quickly.
“No. You keep it. For your trouble.”
Whitey unhesitatingly replaced the money in his wallet.