“My — line?” Drake frowned at him.
“What do you go for? You know.” Shayne waved a bony hand.
“I’m afraid you’ve gotten the wrong impression,” said Drake. “My interest in the seamier side of New Orleans is objective — purely objective.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m looking for a girl.”
Shayne shrugged. “Sure. I can do with a babe, too. After I get high enough.”
“No, no,” said Drake with a cold smile. “I refer to a girl living in the Quarter under an assumed name.”
“Gave you the air, did she?”
“She is a — a protégé.”
Shayne chuckled and lit a cigarette. “Whatever you call her is all right by me.”
Henri pulled to the curb on Royal just beyond Orleans alley. He looked back at his passengers and said, “There’s a dump down the alley toward the old Cabildo where I can get you anything you want.”
Shayne opened the door and got out. Henri came around and joined them. It was not quite dark but the alley was shadowed in heavy twilight. Henri led the way forward with a businesslike stride.