“Hello, Clancy,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “I haven’t seen you for a Long time.”
He stared in astonishment at my face, then he looked at Bogle, “Hey!” he said, “what’s this? You two been fighting?”
“Fighting?” I said. “What makes you think that?”
“Don’t stall,” he snapped, “look at your face.”
“Oh, that,” I shrugged. “That’s the way I wear my face these days. You pick up odd habits in Mexico. Some guys wear beards, some wear ear-rings, I wear bruises. It’s considered the thing in Mexico, isn’t it, Sam?”
Bogle didn’t say anything. He wasn’t quite at ease with the cops.
“Still smart, eh?” Clancy said. “What have you two been fighting about?”
“Oh, we like to keep tough,” I said, “it’s got nothing to do with this business. All kidding aside, Clancy, it’s just our form of self-expression.”
Clancy chewed his cigar and eyed me suspiciously. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll skip that for the moment. How are you tied up in this business?”
I told him in a few words how I had met Doc and Bogle in Mexico, but I didn’t say anything about Myra.