“That’s right.”
“You want me to hit him?”
“That’s what I said.”
“For God’s sake, Mr. Maurer…!”
“That’s what I said,” Maurer repeated. “It’s either he or you Louis. Please yourself.”
III
The Ocean Hotel was always crowded at the week-ends, and on this Saturday afternoon the bathing-pool and the vast stretch of lawn was packed solid with people who had come down from San Francisco and up from Los Angeles for a week-end of swimming and lounging in the sun.
Conrad sat in a tub chair under a shady tree and watched the crowd as it played, lounged and gossiped around the swimming-pool. He kept an eye on the long drive that led to the hotel, watching for Forest’s car.
Around four-thirty, he spotted the car coming up the drive. He stood up and waved. The car slowed down and stopped. Forest got out, said something to his chauffeur, then came across the lawn towards Conrad. The car went on towards the hotel.
Forest wended his way through the sun-bathers until he reached Conrad’s isolated shade under the tree.