Phil took a deep drink. It seemed mild, sweet stuff, compared to the adulterated whiskey Juno had fed him. That is, it seemed so for the first two or three seconds. Then he felt the top of his head balloon outward, pear-wise, like Carstairs'. The dark songstress was singing some song the refrain of which was,
Darling, I'm queer for you.
I'm really strange, quite out of any ordinary range....
Carstairs continued quietly, "Mitz, we let you into the gang, we initiated you, although we knew you were a psychoanalyst's daughter and doubtful material—"
Mitzie glared at him. "Initiated me?" she said. "I'll say you did!"
"Be that as it may," Carstairs asserted slowly, "you betrayed the gang tonight. At the best you acted irresponsibly." His words came slower still. "Your irresponsibility lost us a wad of dough." He paused for a long cruel moment. "You're out, Mitz.
"Out," Carstairs repeated.
"Definitely," Llewellyn agreed. "Yeah," Buck said, rubbing Ortie's lean snoot.
Phil put his elbows on the table. "Gentlemen," he said quietly, "you say you are out a wad of dough? I am in a position to remedy that."
Carstairs looked at him with mild irritation and raised his open hand. Phil smiled and advanced his cheek. "I am seeking a jewel beyond price," he continued. "In order to obtain it, I intend tonight to burgle the premises of Fun Incorporated. I am willing to let you help me."