A drink—one little drink to settle the nerves—and then—
He calls room service, even if he has a bottle in his bag. If he has seltzer, she can drink it only with ginger ale, or vice versa. When the waiter is called, she steps into the bathroom on his knock, and the cluck giggles and says he always takes two about that time of day. The waiter says lots of customers do, it's getting to be a national habit. For that he gets a bill instead of a coin.
She has taken her purse into the bathroom with her, and when she can safely return she has the knockout dose held between the thumb and the palm of her gloved hand—she keeps the gloves on; no fingerprints.
She sits, then remembers she has left her handkerchief on the washstand—would he please get it? As he turns his back, she drops the tasteless, colorless grains into his drink, which dissolves them instantly.
They raise glasses. Here's to crime! Skoal!
If he comes over for a grab right away, she holds him off. She wants to know—is he really married? Oh, dear, all attractive men are! She is a grass widow. Yes, she made a mistake, but what does a girl know when she's 18, and unworldly? How about a cigarette? Is he sure the door is locked now? He makes sure.
By this time his eyes are heavy, his hands more so. He can't understand—it's been a hard day, of course, and last night—zowie! He'll snap out of it in a minute. But he doesn't.
She has stalled until a debilitating lethargy overcomes him. He sinks back, limp. She waits a few more minutes. She pokes him. No reaction. Then she goes to work. He may still see and know what she is doing. But he is paralyzed.
She goes through him, even taking off his shoes and socks, for she has learned that many a cautious cluck hides currency there. She frisks his trousers, vest and coat. Then she scrams.
Quite a number of official beefs to the cops have completely established every move. Though only an infinitesimal percentage of the total go to the police, these average a dozen a week, mostly at East 51st Street police station, which is in the district of most top-grade hotels.