We sat around for half an hour without saying anything. Miss Wonderly moved once or twice and moaned, but she didn’t come out of her faint. It was the longest faint on record. Maybe she wanted to earn herself a title.
As I was beginning to lose patience, the door was thrown open and a short, square man, wearing a big black hat, bustled in. He reminded me of Mussolini when Mussolini used to shake his fist from his balcony. He took in the room at a glance, and then came straight to me.
“Cain?” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Killeano. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see you get a straight deal. You’re my guest, and I know how to look after my guests.”
I didn’t shake his hand. I didn’t get up.
“Your political rival’s dead, Killeano,” I said, eyeing him up and down. “So you’ve got nothing to worry about either.”
He lowered his hand hurriedly and looked at Herrick.
“Poor fellow,” he said. I swear there were tears in his eyes. “He was a grand, clean fighter; this is a great loss to the Administration.”
“Save it for the newspapers.” I advised.
We were all posed there like a bunch of dummies when Miss Wonderly sat up and started to scream again.