He stood looking at her for several moments, then walked out of the room, leaving her polishing her nails on her silken thigh.
Outside, Fenner went into the sitting room. A vague feeling of excitement stirred him, a feeling that he was approaching a solution of the mystery of this business. He went over to the sideboard and helped himself to a drink.
Bugsey wandered in. “Got one for me?” he said hopefully.
Fenner jerked his head. “Help yourself,” he said, sitting down on the divan.
Bugsey poured a long drink and stood blinking at the glass. He took a long pull and smacked his lips.
Fenner glanced at him, but said nothing.
Bugsey fidgeted with his eyes, then said cautiously, “She ain’t nice, is she?”
“Who isn’t?” Fenner was thinking about other things.
“Her—in there.” Bugsey jerked his head. “There’s somethin’ the matter with her, or somethin’, ain’t there?’
“What is all this?” Fenner wished he’d go.