Bogle watched her go. “What do you make of her, Doc?” he asked. “She came over here as tough as rusty nails, then she fell for my line like, a stupid native dope. Think there’s anything to her?”
Ansell was puzzled. “I don’t know,” he said frankly. “She’s too nice looking to be on her own. That’s what makes me suspicious. She’s too good to be true.”
Bogle said: “I don’t think I’d make that dame. She’s got a tongue like a razor. Suppose we blow before she comes back? I know her type. A dame who turns a guy down with silkworms ain’t going to play with me.”
Ansell signalled a waiter. “You’re improving, Bogle,” he said, looking pleased. “There was a time a good looking young woman could tie you in knots. Yes, I think you’re right. I see no reason why we should stay here. Anyway, we have work to do.” He groped for his wallet. “I’m quite sure that she can look after herself—” he broke off and stared wildly at Bogle.
“What’s the matter?” Bogle asked sharply.
“My money!” Ansell spluttered, going through his pockets feverishly, “It’s gone!”
“Gone?” Bogle repeated stupidly. “What do you mean gone?”
His eyes suddenly darkened and he began to search in his own pockets. The two dollars that Myra had given him for the box of pills and the five dollar bill he had saved were no longer to be found.
The two men stared at each other.
“The oldest, hoariest trick in the world,” Ansell said, trembling with rage. “And we fell for it. She knocked beer over me and shook rne down for what I’d got. That wasn’t enough for her. She frisked you as well.”