Mr Uniatz solved this problem by exposing his tonsils in a stentorian bellow which made the chandelier vibrate. In a few seconds Sammy the Leg came in, beaming hospitably.
“All through?” he shouted softly. “Oh — I forgot. This is Fingers Schultz. You remember Fingers, Hoppy?”
“Sure,” Hoppy said. “Where is he?”
Sammy stepped aside, revealing a small, colourless man who blinked blankly at the Saint. Hoppy said, “Hi, Fingers.”
Mr Schultz nodded and kept on blinking.
Sammy the Leg said, “Can’t run a joint like this alone. Fingers gives me a hand.” He looked startled. “Hey. I made a joke. Fingers — hand. It ain’t bad.”
Nobody laughed. Simon said, “Will you keep Junior on ice for a few days?”
“It’ll be a pleasure,” Sammy said. “At twenty-five a day, that’ll be one seventy-five. I always get a week in advance.” He kept his palm extended. “Board and room,” he explained. “Cut rate to you, though.”
Simon opened his wallet and laid several bills on the waiting paw.
“Thanks,” Sammy said. “If you want to stop keeping him, lemme know, an’ maybe we can take care of that, too.”