Edna Robbins was standing in a doorway half-way down the passage. Her hard little face was expressionless, her slim, square-shouldered body without movement.
I felt my heart lurch, but I kept still. We stood there for a long moment looking at each other. She was suspicious, but she wasn’t alarmed. The guard’s uniform reassured her, but I knew I couldn’t give her time to think. I walked slowly towards her.
She waited, her eyes searching my face.
“Any trouble up here?” I asked, when I was within six feet of her.
Her face remained expressionless. “What makes you think there is?” she asked.
“I heard that scream. I was on the next floor, so I came up,” I said, looking her over.
“A real conscientious screw,” she sneered, but I could see my look had registered. “You’ve no business up here. Beat it!”
“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “You don’t have to be mad at me.” I let my eyes drift up and down her body. “I wouldn’t like anything to happen to a cute trick like you.”
“Wouldn’t you?” she said. “Come inside and tell me why.”
I hesitated, then walked past her into a small room fitted as an office. It was as hard and clean and masculine as she was.