“Say sir when you speak to me, you young cub!” Poison bawled.
Jay grinned at Henry. He pursed his mouth and made silent rude signs. “Yes, Mr. Poison,” he said.
“Get after Grantham, do you hear? I want everything you can find about him. Get after that swine Hamsley. I’m going to close down the 22nd Club and I’m going to break Hamsley. I want action. Get out now and do something. Now give me Henry.”
Jay handed the phone back to Henry and sat back fanning himself with his hat.
Henry listened for a few moments with an agonized look on his face, and then the line went dead. He hung up gently. “The guy’s crazy,” he said miserably. “He’s been on to the D.A.’s office. He’s been on to the police.
They can’t do anything. Grantham’s in the clear. His joint’s respectable.”
Jay scratched his head. “Why doesn’t he give Hamsley in charge?”
Henry came round the desk and pounded the top of Jay’s chair. “For the love of God, don’t say a word about Mrs. Poison. No one’s to know about that. Poison only told me because I flatly refused to touch Hamsley. I’m not supposed to have told you.”
Jay grinned uneasily. “Sure, if that yarn got around, Poison would be laughed out of town. Surely, he doesn’t believe it?”
Henry shrugged. “Of course he doesn’t. It’s the old cow that’s causin’ the trouble. Poison’s scared to death of her. She’s after Hamsley’s bloodand you’d better find out why.”