“Who was Miss Coleman with?” Conrad asked sharply.
“With her friends.” The Colonel showed his disapproval by a gentle snort. “That fellow who wears his shirt outside his trousers: I wish I had had him in my regiment. I’d have taught him how to dress like a gentleman! Then there’s that Boyd girl: a cheeky little piece if ever there was one. It’s a damn funny thing how some girls don’t mind what a fellow looks like. Different in my day, I can tell you. I shouldn’t have thought Miss Coleman would have cared to be seen out with that fellow with the birth-mark. But she’s a kind little thing: perhaps she took pity on him.”
Conrad and Bardin exchanged looks. Both of them knew Pete Weiner by sight, although he hadn’t actually been through either of their hands, but they knew he had done some jobs for Maurer.
“What fellow with a birth-mark?” Bardin barked.
The Colonel blinked at him.
“I don’t know who he is. I’ve never seen him before. He had a naevus — isn’t that what they call it? — down the right side of his face.”
“Was he dark, slightly built, looked like a student?” Bardin demanded.
“Yes. I’d say he could be a student.”
“And this other fellow; the one in the car: was he driving a Packard? A short, square-shouldered guy with light blond hair and a white face?”
“That seems a very fair description of him: a vicious character. I don’t know about the car. I didn’t notice it. Do you know him then?”