“Nothing about — about my private affairs?”
“Not a word — I’ll be right up, if you don’t mind.”
She started to hedge, but I dropped the receiver into place and went on up. She was standing in the door of her room, waiting for me.
She was rather heavy. Her hair was silvered. Her eyes were dark and hard. There hadn’t been much sagging to her face, and her eyes glowed with an alert awareness. She gave the impression of having been on her own, where she’d had to look out for herself against all comers.
“You’re the man who telephoned me?” she asked. “Yes.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lam.”
“And you work on one of the newspapers?”
“Yes. There’s only one.”
“What did you say it was?”