“Not a scrap. Are you?”
“No. I’ve never found an etching was necessary.” His smile widened. “A good dinner, a little dancing, discreet lights and soft music are far ahead of any etching.” He pushed his chair back. “Shall we eat?”
Janey looked at him and hesitated. She suddenly sensed that this big, goodlooking man might be taking too much for granted, and he might, as the evening wore on, become much more difficult to handle than she had first imagined. But she knew if she refused his invitation he would leave her flat, and then she would have to go back to the dreary, empty house and the still more dreary television set.
“You’re talking in riddles,” she said, “but I’m hungry, so I will eat.”
“Fine. While you’re powdering your pretty nose,” Seigel said, “I have a phone call to make. Let’s meet here in five minutes.”
“It’ll take me longer to powder my nose than five minutes,” Janey said, refusing to be ordered about.
“In five minutes,” Seigel said, smiling, and walked quickly across the bar to the lounge where a row of pay booths were discreetly concealed.
He dialled a number, and while he was waiting for the-connection, he lit a cigarette.
Janey puzzled him. If he hadn’t known who she was, and that she was married to Conrad, he would have been certain that she was inviting seduction. Was she playing with him? he wondered, or was she really a push-over? Was Conrad going to appear suddenly just when Seigel was ready to move in for the kill? Was that the idea? Would Conrad let his wife come here on her own and act like this just for a chance of making trouble for Seigel? Seigel doubted it, but he decided to play his hand carefully.
A click sounded in his ear and Moe Gleb’s growling voice snarled, “Wadyawan’?”