Three hard-faced gunmen lounged in the hall. They stiffened to attention when they saw Maurer.
“Stick around, you guys,” Maurer said, “and keep your eyes open.”
“Sure, boss,” one of the men said. “There won’t be no trouble.”
“There’d better not be,” Maurer grunted, and walked into the big sunny lounge.
Dolores stood by the open casement window. She looked slim and lovely in a simple black dress. There were shadows under her eyes, and she was pale.
“Hello, Jack.”
“There you are, Dolly,” Maurer said. “Get me a drink, will you?”
He joined her at the window and looked down the long terraced garden. Guards stood about on the terraces, some of them cradled rifles under their arms.
“Seigel tried to knock off Ferrari,” Maurer said, as Dolores poured a stiff highball. He sank into an armchair, his back to the window. “Ferrari stuck a knife into him. I’m taking a few precautions until Ferrari leaves town.”
Dolores didn’t say anything. She brought the drink over to Maurer and set it on a small table near him.