"Where is here?" I asked.
"At our place, the apartment," she said.
"Better give me the address," I suggested. "I can't seem to remember."
"Winnie, that particular joke is getting tiresome. You know perfectly well it's 172 East 72nd Street and the third floor front. The name, naturally, is Smith."
"John Smith?" I inquired.
"Natch! And hurry, unless you want to be in worse trouble than you can imagine."
I signaled to Tammy. "One more Second Day Special, please."
He looked worried. "Are you quite sure, sir," he demurred. "Two is as much as I've ever seen a man take."
He returned to his mystery and produced the fatal brew. I drank it slowly. By Godfrey! this was more like it. I tossed him a five-dollar bill.
"Just remember that you haven't seen me," I told him.