"It's just a place," Baya said impatiently. And then she said sharply, "What's the matter with you?"
Blood and fumes hammered together in his bulging temples, and his back felt cold. "Where's the men's room, Baya?"
Her mouth set in anger and disgust. She called, "Varnik!"
A tall powerful man with a very long neck and skin the color of a ripe plum came up to the table. He wore an apron.
Baya said, "Better take him there, Varnik."
The plum colored man took him and ran him to a door and put him through it. From there a servall took over. It was very efficient.
"Are you through, sir?"
"God, no. Not nearly."
One more word and you would have been through. Forever. Drunken blabbermouth Durham, smart aleck Durham, would-be big shot Durham, ready to babble out his secret and blow his last chance of a comeback. But why did Baya have to be so insistently curious?
Why, indeed?