I tapped a gloved forefinger on the counter. “Okay,” I said, “give me a couple of those,” took the cigars, and walked over to where the clerk was standing at the counter. “Poker game running down the street,” I said. “I want to get away for a couple of hours’ sleep, then go back. What have you got, something around the fourth floor?”
“Four-seventy-one,” he suggested.
“Where is it?”
“On the corner.”
“Nothing doing.”
“Four-twenty?”
I said, “Brother, I’m funny, but I always get along with the odd numbers. Four-twenty sounds about right, only it’s even. Have you got four-seventeen or four-nineteen or four-twenty-one?”
“I can give you four-twenty-one.”
“How much?”
“Three bucks.”