Pug frowned and stared at me with his eyes sharp with suspicion. Abruptly, he said, “Get your things together, babe.”
“What do you mean?”
Pug’s eyes grew hostile. “There’s just a chance this guy’s trying to stall us along until the law can get us spotted. Where you got those coins?”
“In my — you know.”
“Okay,” Pug said, “beat it out and get ’em changed. If they raid the joint, we don’t want to have a lot of dimes and nickels and quarters on hand. And you, buddy, you better be going. Like you said, you’ve got a lot of things to do.”
“I’d like to ask a few more questions.”
Pug got to his feet, came over, and put his hand on my shoulder. “I know you would, but we’re busy. We’ve got things to do. You know how it is.”
“Now, Pug, don’t you hurt—”
“Forget it, babe. Get that stuff together and get it changed into currency. This guy’s leaving right now, and you’ve got work to do.”
Her eyes studied Pug for a minute, then came over to mine. Abruptly she smiled, walked over, and gave me her hand. “You’re one swell guy,” she said. “I like guys with nerve. You sure have plenty.”