"Come on, Jim. Let's get out of here."
Jim Drake lifted a tousled head from the smooth linen. He gazed at his right hand man with a washed-out expression.
"Huh?"
"Puffy" Adams stood up slowly. His coat was wrinkled and creased across his powerful back. He pulled it down impatiently and rubbed a warm hand across his face. Looking down at the unsteady figure of Jim Drake he grunted. Three crooked teeth that seemed at odds with the world, appeared coyly against "Puffy's" lower lip.
He was accustomed to this old routine. Placing both hands under Drake's armpits he lifted. Jim came to his feet with a surprised gurgle.
"Wait a minute," he protested. "Wanta' see dance."
Puffy Adams pushed a thick arm around Drake and steered him across the floor between the tables.
"Special feature tonight—diamond of mystery...." The night club owner was still talking, his voice drowning the murmur of voices and tinkle of glasses across the big room. "Sylvia Fanton—girl from nowhere—!"
Puffy struggled onward under the almost dead weight of his boss. Drake was trying to hold back.
"You gave me orders to take you home at midnight," Puffy protested, "and, 'Cinderella' Drake, home you go."