Gilroy moved near the light, counted the bills, put them in his pocket, and grinned some more.
He said, “How low do you want to stay, mister?”
“When you read the papers, you’ll see,” Duffy told him. “I want a meal, plenty to drink and a telephone.”
Gilroy led him through the baize door, down three stairs, past a bead-curtained door and through another door at the end of a dimly-lit passage. The room was small. It contained a bed, table, two arm-chairs, and a small radio.
“I’ll get you some chuck right away.”
Duffy said, “How safe’s this joint?”
Gilroy rolled his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m paying plenty for protection. The bulls won’t worry you here.”
He left Duffy and shut the door behind him. In the corner of the room, standing on a small table, was a telephone Duffy looked at it, his mouth pursed thoughtfully. Then he walked over and dialled.
He recognized Gleason’s voice. “Too bad you didn’t get the list when you knocked my girl-friend off,” he said, biting off each word.
There was a startled gasp as Gleason caught his breath. “Why, you double-crossing rat,” he jerked out. “What’s the big idea? I’m just back from the ‘Red Ribbon’. I had the dough and you never showed up.”