Sydney grunted. He came straight to the point. “Did you see Cora last night?”
George felt his face grow red. “Cora?” He repeated, wondering in panic whether she had told Sydney that they had met.
“Deaf?” Sydney said rudely, eyeing him “What’s the matter? You’re going puce in the face.”
George gulped. What a hateful, arrogant brat this Sydney was! he thought furiously. He put his hand to his cheek. “Got an exposed nerve,” he muttered, looking away. “It gives me jip sometimes.”
Sydney helped himself to a sardine on toast. “Did you see Cora last night?” he repeated.
“I—I left the message,” George said. “Didn’t she get it?”
“Oh, she got it; but the little bitch stayed out all night.”
George flinched. He thought sadly that George Fraser, millionaire gangster, would have knocked Sydney’s teeth out for calling her that.
“That’s not a nice way to talk about your sister,” he protested; “perhaps she stayed with friends. It was a pretty poisonous night, wasn’t it?”
“Friends?” Sydney repeated, his blank, hard eyes still probing George’s face. “What makes you think she’s got friends?”