'I told you,' I said. 'O'Donnel.'
'No, no,' she said impatiently. 'Your real name?'
At that moment the door opened and Manack came in. He glanced quickly from me to the girl and then back to me again. 'I see you've made yourself at home,' he said, and I thought there was a trace of sarcasm in his tone.
'I'm getting myself dried,' I explained.
'The men here have their own quarters,' he said.
'The stove's not lit in there,' the girl put in. 'They haven't come in yet, and it's not worth lighting it now. They'll go straight to bed if they're to get up at the time you want them in the morning.'
Manack nodded. 'Come into my office,' he said to me. 'Mulligan's gone. I want to talk to you about the job I want done. Don't bother to put any clothes on. If Kitty can put up with you half-undressed, no doubt I can.'
I followed him along the passage to his office. He shut the door. 'Better get near the fire,' he advised and poured me out a stiff drink. 'Take it you don't mind Italian cognac?'
'I'm pretty used to it,' I said.
His eyes watched me as I raised my glass and drank. They were steel grey and their movements were quick as though he found it a strain to look at anything for more than a few seconds. His hands were long and slender, and when his fingers weren't drumming on the arm of his chair or running through his thick, wiry hair, they hung loosely from the wrist. Sitting there with only a blanket and a pair of pants on I felt at a disadvantage. He knocked back his drink and poured himself another. 'Rotgut,' he said. 'Still, it's better than nothing. If that revenue cutter hadn't butted in we'd have been drinking French brandy or champagne. Damn 'em.' He filled my glass. The liquor was warming. 'What's your name?' The question came abruptly.