The blonde was sitting on the bed trying to take off her dress. She was so drunk that she couldn’t quite make it. She sat there struggling and giggling. Little Ernie was not in the room Dillon could see a light coming from a half-open door leading off the room, and he guessed he was in there.
The blonde got to her feet and lurched through the door, leaving the room empty. Dillon put his fingers under the window frame and quietly lifted the window. He had a little struggle, but he managed it. The window slid back without any noise.
Roxy came up, a gun in his hand. His eyes were popping out of his head.
Dillon said quietly, “Stay here. If there’s any trouble, shoot.”
He put a leg over the window-sill and slid into the room. He stood listening in the middle of the room, his gun held by his side. Faintly, he could hear the two in the other room. They were not talking, but he could hear the blonde giggle and Ernie’s grunts. He stepped quietly to the door and looked in.
Little Ernie was dressed in a salmon-pink dressing-gown. He was standing with his back to the door. The blonde had got rid of her dress and she was facing Dillon. She was wearing a cloudy piece of chiffon that didn’t cover her much. She saw Dillon standing in the doorway and she stiffened. The liquor died on her, leaving her sober and terrified.
Dillon said, “Don’t move, you two. I’m itching to blast you.”
Little Ernie didn’t bat an eyelid Dillon had to hand it to him. He just stood looking inquiringly at the blonde. She folded her hands across her breasts and moaned softly.
Dillon moved into the room, stiff-legged, like a cat about to fight. He circled slowly round until he was behind the blonde, facing Ernie.
“I guess you didn’t expect to see me?” he said evenly.