She went out of the room, leaving the door open. Duffy glanced round, saw another door and went over and opened it. He found himself in a small kitchen. He pushed the door to, and stood looking into the sitting-room, through the small opening.
He heard her at the front door; then he heard her say, “Why, hello, Max.”
“You alone?” the hoarse Voice that spoke made Duffy stiffen. It was familiar. First, he thought it was Joe, but then he knew it wasn’t quite like Joe’s voice. He’d heard it before.
She said, “Yes… what is it?”
Duffy heard footsteps in the hall and he heard the front door close. “What do you want?” her voice was nervy and breathless.
A broad-shouldered man, wearing a black slouched hat, walked into the sitting-room. Duffy had him at once. It was the man who had stolen the camera.
Duffy clenched his fists. Just the bird he was looking for.
Olga came in and stood by the table. Her face was white and a muscle in her throat fluttered.
“But, Max…”
The man glanced round the room suspiciously, then looked at her. His hard eyes raked her from head to foot. “I ain’t seen you for a long time,” he said. “You’re looking swell.” There was no animation in his voice. He sounded as if he were reciting.