“I’m Lucille Hart. Since we’re brother and sister, we’d better dispense with formality.”
The waiter returned and put two drinks down on the table. He also deposited a check and stood waiting.
She pushed the twenty-dollar note at me under the table. I paid no attention to it, but took my notecase from my coat pocket and put out two one-dollar notes. The waiter promptly reached into his pocket and took out two twenty-five cent pieces. I picked one up. The waiter picked up the other.
Lucille lifted her glass, looked at me and said, “Here’s to crime.”
I extended my glass towards hers, then sipped it.
The drink consisted of sixty per cent ice-water with perhaps a teaspoonful of gin, a few drops of dry Vermouth, and an olive.
Lucille put the drink down, winked at me, made a little face and said, “I guess they don’t want us here.”
“Apparently not,” I said.
“In any event, they don’t want us to become intoxicated.”
“That’s right.”