Fenner grinned. “Well, I can,” he said, getting to his feet. “Give me a big envelope, will you, baby?”
She pointed to a little desk in the window recess. “Help yourself.”
He went over and put the contents of the wallet in the envelope, scrawled a note and addressed the envelope to Miss Paula Dolan, Room 1156, Roosevelt Building, New York City.
Glorie, who had been reading over his shoulder, said, “Who’s the girl?” suspiciously.
Fenner tapped the envelope with a long finger. “She’s the dame who runs my office.
“Why send it to her?”
“Listen, baby, I’m playing this my way. If I liked I could turn this over to Hosskiss, the Federal man, and get him to crack down on those two guys. It would be enough for him to start an investigation. But Carlos has been tough with me, so I’m goin’ to be tough with him. Maybe he’ll get me before I get him, in that case the stuff gets turned over to the cops after all. Get it?”
Glorie shrugged. “Men are either chasing women or getting themselves into a jam because of their pride,” she said. “I love a guy who takes on a mob single-handed to even things up. It’s like the movies.”
Fenner stood up. “Yeah?” he said. “Who said single-handed?” He went out on to the piazza. “I’m going to put this in the mail. I’ll be right back, and then we can feed.”
On his way back from mailing the letter he passed a telegraph office. He paused, thought, and then went in. He wrote a message out and took it to the desk.