‘Frisk him, Mac, ’ the broad-shouldered character said.
Mac ran his hands over me, found the .25 and tossed it to his companion.
‘That’s the lot, Joe,’ he said and stepped back.
Joe came closer; his small eyes probed my face.
‘Who are you? Ain’t seen you before,’ he said, puzzled.
‘Malloy’s the name.’
‘That’s the guy she was telling you about,’ Mac said, showing interest.
Joe scowled.
‘Yeah; that’s right. Poking your snout in Barratt’s affairs, were you?’ he demanded, pushing the gun at me.
‘Well, yes; put it that way if you like,’ I said. ‘Didn’t he tell you?’