Duffy groaned. “What a hell of a night I had,” he said, resting his head on his hands.
McGuire went over to the telephone and dialled a number. Duffy watched him curiously. He heard the line connect with a little plop, then McGuire said, “Sam here, honey.” Then, after a pause he went on. “This crazy loon’s got himself into a jam. You ought to see him. Gee! He look’s terrible. Yeah, someone pushed him around. Well, I don’t think he’s capable of taking care of himself, so I’m bringing him right round to you. Fix up the spare bed for him, will you?” He stood listening for quite a while, then he said, “Coming right now,” and he hung up.
Duffy said heatedly, “If you think you’re going to turn that wife of yours loose on me….”
“Pipe down,” McGuire said sharply, “you’re doing what you’re told. Listen, you small-time prizefighter, you come on your feet or you come on your ear, it’s all the same to me.”
“Okay, I’ll come.”
McGuire had quite a job getting him over to his place, but he did it. The taxi-driver who brought them took an extraordinary interest in Duffy. He helped McGuire get him out of the cab and up the steps. Then he stood there, shaking his head.
McGuire got a little heated about it. “All right, all right,” he said; “ain’t you seen someone pushed around before.”
“He ain’t been pushed around,” the taxi-driver said, looking Duffy over, “someone’s been making love to him.”
McGuire shut the door in his face.
On the third floor Alice was waiting for them in the passage. A tall, dark girl, with black hair dressed low that set off her olive complexion, and gave her just a slight foreign look. Her large eyes, alight with life, were now large and scared.