“Go and get some Scotch,” he said. “Get glasses from downstairs. Make it snappy.”
A little grin came to the faces of the three. This they could understand. A guy doesn’t buy them one drink, he sends for a bottle. That must mean dough.
While Little Joe was away Raven took off his hat and combed his hair carefully. He adjusted his frayed tie and regarded himself for a long while in the fly−blown mirror.
The other two watched him with interest. Raven took no notice of them; he was waiting for Little Joe.
They knew this and were content to wait. Little Joe had tagged along with them; he was entitled to hear what was to be said as much as the others.
Little Joe came back with the Scotch and glasses. At a sign from Raven he poured drinks out all round.
Raven took his glass. “Money and power,” he said, and they all drank.
Sitting down, Raven ht a cigarette. “It’s fixed,” he said. “We’re movin’ to the St. Louis Hotel right away.
When we’re settled we can look around for somethin’ better, but that’ll do to get along with.”
The St. Louis Hotel was the best hotel in town.