“She’s not here tonight.”
Duffy said, “Hell, I wanted to talk to that dame.”
They danced in silence for several minutes, then he said, “Would you like to earn twenty bucks?”
“It’s going to cost you a lot more than that.”
Duffy said, “We’re on a different set of rails. I’m offering you twenty bucks for Olga’s address.”
She looked disappointed. “Gee!” she said with a pout, “I thought we were getting on fine.”
“I’m out on business. I just gotta talk with her.”
She went the length of the room before she said, “I’ll get it for you.”
At the end of the dance she left him. Duffy glanced over at Sam, who was making up to his blonde, so he turned into the toilet. He ran the water and washed his hands. The toilet was empty. It was a small room with cracked tiles half-way up the walls. He dried his hands and dropped the towel into the basket. The door pushed open and a tall man came in. The first thing Duffy noticed about him was his hair. It was jet black, with a broad white streak, running from his forehead to his right ear. It gave his hard face a look of distinction. He wore a close-clipped moustache, and his skin was grey.
Duffy just glanced at him, then made to walk out of the room.