"They say he had a broken leg."
"If that's what they said, it must be a matter of record."
"Well, they're wrong on both counts. He came to see me over three hours ago—and both his legs were as good as mine."
Frank Corson did not volunteer the information that he had personally taken William Matson to his furnished room in Greenwich Village and that Matson was there at this very moment, awaiting Frank's return.
"I think there must be some mistake on your part," Frank said.
"No mistake. But something very definitely got crossed up. Maybe we ought to have a little talk—the two of us."
Anger stirred in Frank Corson. Did this Les King character think a beaten-up camera gave him the right to walk in and make demands. "I'm busy now. And I can't see what we'd have to talk about."
"A hell of a lot, maybe. There are some things you may not know about this deal. You might have let a big thing slip through your fingers."
"Look here, I'm not interested in anything you've got to say. And I think you've got a hell of a nerve, coming in here and cross-examining me on something that's—"
King reacted with weary patience. "Take it easy. I'm just trying to get some information that can help both of us, maybe."