The short man walked into the outer office and looked round. There was a puzzled expression on his face. He went over to the big cupboard where Paula kept the stationery and looked inside. Then he grunted.
Fenner said, “If you’ll care to wait, we can give you a hot meal and a bed. We like you guys to feel at home.”
The short man picked up the heavy ash-tray that was by his hand and looked at it thoughtfully, then he smacked Fenner across his face with it very hard. Fenner dropped his head on his chest, but he didn’t move quickly enough. The embossed edges of the tray caught him high up on the side of his face.
The other man pulled out a blunt-nosed automatic from his pocket and jammed it into Paula’s side. He jammed it so hard that she cried out.
The short man said, “Start something and we’ll spread the twist’s guts on the mat.”
Fenner pulled out his handkerchief from his breast pocket and held it to his face. The blood ran down his hand as he did so, and stained his shirt cuff. “Maybe we’ll meet again,” he said through his teeth.
“Back flip against the wall. I want to look this place over,” the short man said. “Get goin’ before I hang another one on you.”
Fenner suddenly recognized them as Cubans. They were the kind you ran into on the waterfront of any coast town if you go south far enough. He stood with his back to the wall, his hands raised to his shoulders. He was so furious that he’d’ve taken his chance and started something if Paula hadn’t been there. He somehow felt that these two were just a shade too tough to take chances.
The short Cuban ran his hands over Fenner. “Take your coat off and give it to me,” he said.
Fenner tossed it at him. The Cuban sat on the edge of the desk and felt through the lining very carefully. He took out Fenner’s note-case and examined that. Then he dropped the coat to the floor. Again he went up to Fenner and patted him all over. Fenner could smell the spiced food he had been eating recently. His fingers itched to grab this creature round the neck.