Sam poured out the drinks. “That’s old stuff,” he said, “you don’t know what she’s like now. Give her a few shots of rum, and it takes an army to handle her.”
Alice came in. “When you two loafers’ve finished pulling my reputation to bits, come on in and eat.”
They followed her into the kitchen, Duffy walking slowly, careful not to touch anything, and Sam with the big shaker in his hands.
They sat round the table Duffy found it was difficult to eat, but he made a good show. They talked about general things until the meal was over. Both Alice and Sam were burning with curiosity, but they let Duffy have his head. When they had finished, they went back into the sitting-room. Alice sat herself on the arm of Duffy’s chair, and McGuire stood in front of the empty fire-grate.
Duffy said, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I guess you’d better have it from the start, and then we’ll go into the whys and whats after.”
He told them everything. How he met Morgan, what Morgan wanted him to do, how he went to the house and took the photographs, how the camera was stolen, how he found Cattley on the lift-shaft, how he got rid of the body, the meeting with the three toughs. He gave them the whole works.
When he had finished, there was a long silence. Then McGuire said, “You’ve started something this time.”
“I’ve not only started something, but it’s something I’m going to finish.”
Alice ran her long fingers through his hair. “I know it’s no good me saying anything, but don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
Duffy put his fingers tenderly on his face, his eyes were suddenly very bleak. “No one can push me around like this and not know something about it,” he said softly.