Fenner grunted. “I’m busy right now, pal,” he said. “Call round at my office tomorrow sometime, when I’m out.”
Grosset apologetically indicated two big cops in plain clothes who stood right in Fenner’s exit. “We can talk here, or at my office,” he said primly.
Fenner grinned. “A hold-up? Okay, let’s talk here, and quick.”
Paula said, “I’ve forgotten something. I’ll be right back.” She left them and went back into the cocktail lounge. Lindsay was still sitting there. She sat down beside him. “You mustn’t feel that Mr. Fenner means to be unkind,” she said softly. “He’s got a case that’s worrying him. He gets like that. He doesn’t mean anything.”
Lindsay raised his head and looked at her, “I guess I shouldn’t have asked him,” he said helplessly; “but my little girl means a lot to me.”
Paula opened her bag and took out a flat note-book. “Give me the facts,” she said. “I can’t promise anything, but I might be able to persuade him.”
The heavy eyes lit up a little hopefully. “I can do that,” he said huskily. “What facts do you want?”
In the lounge outside, Fenner followed Grosset to a quiet corner and sat down with him. He was very watchful and distrusting.
Grosset was smooth, just a shade too smooth. He flicked open a thin gold cigarette-case and offered it to Fenner. He then lit the two cigarettes with a gold lighter.
Fenner said dryly, “You guys live well.”