I said I would have some more.
The house dick gave me another shot. He stood smiling stupidly at me, a blend of servility and horror in his eyes.
Then quite suddenly the cotton wool in my head dissolved, the pain went away and I felt as fine as could be expected under the circumstances. I asked the house dick for a cigarette, and he gave me one and lit it for me. His fat hairy hand was trembling.
“Make the punk at home,” Flaggerty said from the window. He was watching me now, and he held a snub-nosed automatic in his hand. “Stay where you are, Cain,” he went on. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”
“Skip it,” I said. “I know it looks bad, but she’ll tell you what happened as soon as she comes to the surface. I don’t know a thing about it.”
“They never do,” Flaggerty sneered.
“I wouldn’t say anything, Mr. Cain,” the house dick whispered. “Not until Mr. Killeano comes.”
“Is he coming?” I asked.
“Sure. You’re a guest here, Mr, Cain. We want to get you out of this mess if we can.”
I stared at him. “I guess there’s no other hotel in the world with such service,” was all I could think to say.