‘This is Ed,’ Dal as said. ‘Gimme the old man, will you, honey?’
‘Hold a moment, please,’ the girl said, and proceeded to make violent crackling noises in Dallas’s ear.
‘Must you knock my brains out?’ Dal as complained, holding the receiver at arm’s length. ‘Why don’t you use your hands instead of your feet?’
‘I would if I thought you had any brains,’ the girl said pertly, and completed the connection with a loud whistle on the line.
Harmon Purvis, head of the agency, said in his dry, flat voice, ‘What is it, Dal as?’
‘The Shine’s just had callers,’ Dal as said, speaking rapidly, the glowing end of his cigarette bobbing up and down within an inch of the telephone mouthpiece. ‘A man and woman. The man’s a well-nourished bird, pushing fifty, and looks made of money. The woman’s a nifty; young, blonde, with a shape that’s knocked my right eye out. The Shine was expecting them. They by-passed the desk and went right up. Want me to do anything about them?’
‘Don’t cal the Rajah a Shine,’ Purvis said coldly. ‘He’s a high-class Hindu. He may be coloured…’
‘Okay, okay,’ Dal as said impatiently. ‘I wouldn’t know the difference. What about these two? Want me to cover them?’
‘Better find out who they are,’ Purvis said. ‘We can’t afford to take chances. They’re his first callers, aren’t they?’
‘If you don’t count the two rubes from the Embassy, and the floozie he had up there last night to fix his insomnia.’