MacAdam, a dark, beefy man, who looked too big for his clothes, was nursing a pint of beer, and staring through the window of the bar, a far-away expression in his eyes.
Dallas gave him a jab in the ribs that made him spill some of his beer. He turned wrathfully.
‘Oh, you,’ he said in disgust. ‘I might have known it. I saw Gil is go in about a quarter of an hour ago. I guessed you’d be around like bad news.’
‘Where’s Baird?’ Dal as demanded.
MacAdam eyed him sharply. He didn’t like the expression on Dal as’s face.
‘What’s cooking? You look like you swal owed a bee.’
‘You’l think you’ve swal owed a goddamn hornet in a moment,’ Dal as snarled. ‘Where’s Baird?’
‘In the club, of course. Why else do you think I’m here?’
‘He isn’t in the club. Don’t you know there’s a rear exit?’
MacAdam sighed.