"I'd give a lot to have seen Cookie's face."
"She looked rather like a frog that was being goosed by an electric eel."
The girl laughed quickly; and then she stopped laughing.
"I hope I didn't louse everything up for you.''
"Oh, no." He doubled her tone exactly as she had doubled his. "But it was just a little unexpected."
"For a great detective, you've certainly got an awful memory."
He arched an eyebrow at her.
"Have I?"
"Do you remember the first crossing of the Hindenburg — the year before it blew up?" She was looking straight ahead, and he saw her profile intermittently as the dimmed street lights touched it. "You were on board — I saw your picture in a newsreel when you arrived. Of course, I'd seen pictures of you before, but that reminded me. And then a couple of nights later you were in a place called the Bali, opposite El Morocco. Jim Moriarty had it — before he had the Barberry Room. I was bellowing with the band there, and you came in and sat at the bar." She shrugged, and laughed again. "I must have made a tremendous impression."
He didn't remember. He never did remember, and he never ceased to regret it. But it was one of those things.