Duffy took a cigarette from the box on the table and thumbed the table lighter. He sat down, keeping his hands on the chair arms. He thought Gleason was a trifle jumpy. There was a little twitch going on at the corner of his mouth.
“You’ve pointed a gun at me before,” he said.
“That was unfortunate. We were interrupted.” Gleason sat on the corner of the table, swinging a long thin foot.
Annabel came out of the bathroom. She stood near Gleason. Her face was very hard, and her eyes were frightened.
Duffy looked at her, then he said, “What now?”
Gleason said, “I want that note-book.”
Duffy nodded. “Sure, I can understand that. I told you before, it’s in the mail.”
Annabel said breathlessly, “He’s lying.”
Duffy shrugged. “You think so? Ask yourself, what would you do? I guessed it was important, so I put it in an envelope and posted it to an address in Canada. When I want it, I just write for it.”
Gleason’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe we could persuade you to write for it.”