Dillon left the room and went to his apartment. He collected his two guns and the Thompson and stowed them away. He came back silently. “What’s the idea?” he snarled. “I thought this place was okay?”
Roxy nodded. “Sure it’s okay. You can’t keep the Feds outta any place. The bulls leave it alone, but not the Feds. You ain’t wanted by no G-man, are you?” There was sharp anxiety in his voice.
Dillon didn’t say anything. He stood by the table, a little tense. With eyes like chips of ice he stared at Roxy. The expression in his eyes quite startled Roxy.
Myra broke in. “I guess not,” she said.
Roxy relaxed. “Okay, just you go on drinkin’ an’ say nothin’. I’ll do the talkin’ if there’s any talkin’ to be done.”
“Hell!” Dillon said savagely. “That black cow’s goin’ to lose some of her rent. She’s nuts thinkin’ I’m payin’ all that dough, when the Feds can come in here.”
Roxy nodded his head. “Sure,” he said. “I guess she’s been stringin’ you along. You fix her. It’s been comin’ to her for a long time.”
Suddenly they heard a commotion going on downstairs. They stiffened involuntarily. “Here they come,” Roxy said, putting his feet up on the couch. “Now don’t let those guys stampede you. They’ll try all right.”
They could hear Miss Benbow protesting on the stairs. They, heard her say, “You dicks ain’t got anythin’ on me. You can’t come bustin’ in like this. I tell you this is a respectable house.”
Someone said in a gritty voice. “Take it easy, Coon, we’re just lookin’ the place over.”