‘You’re too beautiful to bother your head about such things,’ he said, his heart beginning to beat violently and jerkily. ‘I’m not going out tonight: nor are you.’
She made a quick, impatient movement to break free, but immediately checked it. Instead, she slipped her arms around his neck and hid her face against his silken lapel, so he couldn’t see her expression of loathing and revulsion.
V
Although it was after nine-twenty, a light still showed through the glass panel of the door leading to the inner office of the International Detective Agency. That meant Harmon Purvis hadn’t yet gone home.
Ed Dallas pushed open the door and looked into the large airy office.
Purvis, a tall stick of a man, sat behind a desk, busy with a pile of papers, a pencil held between his teeth. He glanced up, nodded briefly, laid down his papers and took the pencil out of his mouth.
‘Come in,’ he said, waving to a chair by the desk. ‘I guessed you’d be in so I waited for you.’
Dallas sat down, laid his hat on the floor, and ran his fingers through his crew-cut brown hair.
‘I might have something with those two,’ he said. ‘The guy’s Preston Kile. Ever heard of him?’
Purvis thought a moment, then nodded.