"You're the Bennington man?"
"Sidney Kingman," said the other, showing Farradyne a small case with an identification card and license. "Where is she?"
"Inside."
Kingman handed Farradyne an envelope. He pocketed it and led Kingman into the salon. Norma was there, sitting on the divan, smoking.
"Miss Hannon, Mr. Kingman."
"Another one of your friends?" she sneered.
"No. He's one of yours."
"I have no friends."
"Yes, you have, Miss Hannon. And you have parents—"
Norma leaped to her feet angrily. "You good-for-nothing bum!" she screeched at Farradyne.